


Blueberry is Not the Only Muffin

by Hnikkar



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hnikkar/pseuds/Hnikkar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy sat there stunned with a shirt in her lap.</p>
<p>“Smell it,” Faith prompted her when it became evident she didn’t know what to do with the thing.</p>
<p>“Oh.” Buffy gave it a quick whiff. “It just smells like you.” She chucked it back.</p>
<p>“Now to decipher if that’s a good or a bad thing…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueberry is Not the Only Muffin

**“Nice place. D’you ever catch kids doing the diddy out here?”**

**“No; there’s a smooch spot up by the woods. It’s usually where kids go.”**

**“Yeah? Bet you and Scott have enough there kicked in the gear shift.”**

**“Hardly. We’ve only been on a few dates.”**

**“But you like him. I mean, when you think about him you get that good down-low tickle, right?”**

**“Yeah, I guess –how low?”**

**“You tell me.”**

**“How about not? But he is nice and, he’s funny –”**

**“–And quite a muffin–”**

**“–Blueberry, with that scrunchy-munchy thing on top. But, my most favourite thing so far is that he doesn’t seem to be any kind of Hell Beast.”**

**“All men are beasts, Buffy.”**

**“Ookay, I was hoping to not get that cynical until I was at least forty.”**

**“It’s not cynical. I mean, it’s realistic. Every guy from manimal right down to ‘I love the English’ patient has beast in ‘im. And I don’t care how sensitive they act. They’re all still just in it for the chase.”**

“Speaking of the chase–”

Buffy stepped into a stance Faith already knew as well as her own reflection.

Faith’s senses heightened and suddenly the sound of something – a vampire judging by the weight of its steps – trudging softly through the leaves had become a rippling boom in her ears.

For a moment, everything was still. It was a short-living type of stillness not many people experienced. Not many people were Slayers.

There was a whipping sound as Faith’s leg sliced through the air. The vampire didn’t stay on the ground for long; by the time Faith was aiming over a gravestone he was lunging at Buffy. The Slayer dodged easily and punches and blocks ensued.

Faith stood on the side-lines for a moment, waiting for an invitation.

It was flung at her: Buffy had managed to grab a kick and use the momentum to throw the guy at Faith. You weren’t supposed to try to catch kicks; you could break your fingers. But Buffy could use some rule-breaking, in Faith’s opinion.

Faith could’ve easily staked him there and then, but she felt like playing a little.

She toyed, flaunted and taunted before she made a demon dust.

The satisfaction she got after dusting a vampire was not one many people ever experienced. She shrugged – not many people were Slayers was her chosen explanation.

Buffy pointed through a couple of askew stone crucifixes. “I think we should go this way next.”

Faith rolled her eyes. Buffy was always in responsibility-mode. “I’m hungry,” Faith replied.

“Well I don’t think you’ll be finding anything tasty down there.”

“There’s a really nice kebab place downtown I know.” Her dark lashes had begun autonomously batting.

Buffy’s head rolled back and her gaze met the stars. “Fine,” she sighed submissively.

**

That morning, Giles had called Faith and Buffy to the library to lay out the latest local newspaper before them. There had been several attacks on students of their school, and all of the victims had spoken of some kind of monster. There was also an advert for openings in a few counselling-related jobs.

But, apparently that wasn’t enough drama for one day; Scott had later broken up with Buffy.

Faith had been flattered when Buffy had chosen to unleash her angst with her. It was beginning to sting a little, but what the hell.

**“Aw, man! Guys should break up with you more often.”**

**“Gee, thank-you,”**

**“No, I mean it, I mean, you’ve really got some quality rage going. Really gives you an edge.”**

**“Edge girl – just what I always wanted to be.”**

**“Well, screw him, alright, you move on, and you party – heavily, and it’ll be fine. I mean you’re still going to that dance, right?”**

Buffy looked reluctant. It wasn’t fair that this should stop her going to her school dance.

**“Maybe.”**

Faith ignored the lump in her chest.

**“We got the ticks already, why don’t we go together?”**

**“I don’t know about that.”**

**“Come on, we’ll find a couple studs, use ‘em, and discard ‘em – always fun.”**

**“OK, I’m in – not the stud using part though…or, probably not.”**

Faith grinned. She hadn’t been sure if she’d bother going to this dance thing, but now she was.

And she was actually looking forward to it. Unfortunately it didn’t go as planned; Buffy had been put in a car with Cordelia to ‘sort out their issues’ and they hadn’t arrived until the reading of prom queen. Apparently they’d been ‘hunted’.

But it hadn’t been a _totally_ awful time. Giles had been quite entertaining, as had repelling the girl dancing with the sleazebag. Though, as Faith slipped out the back, wanting to catch a bus before they got filled with drunks, it became apparent that Scott didn’t find it so entertaining himself.

“You bitch!”

Faith turned, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to be there, nor speak such profanities from his mooshy outer shell.

“You better watch your mouth; someone might try ‘n’ fix it.”

A strange expression crossed the boy’s face. The fact that he’d recently lost two of his best friends wasn’t on Faith’s radar.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” he asked darkly. “You think you’re tough, the way you walk around, like you can get anything you want. But you aren’t, I know what you are…”

Their faces were close now.

“What’s that?”

“A _slut_.”

And then someone did fix his mouth. Faith figured she’d done him a favour; his lips could use some reddening and guys never wore lipstick.

*

When Faith had first arrived in Sunnydale, she had won over all Buffy’s friends almost instantly. This, however, was not true for Buffy herself, who had initially kept herself distanced from Faith. Faith would have done the same in her position, so didn’t blame her. They were similar, in that: cautious; suspicious – as a Slayer should be, but not because a Slayer should be. Faith enjoyed these kinds of new and flattering relationships, but didn’t care too much for them: she did not relate very well with flocks of sheep. She knew all relationships like these were fleeting and foundationless, and the lack of this knowledge could have led to a lot more hurt than would be necessary.

Faith had a charm to which not many were immune, and most that were were adults. Buffy was one of them, she wasn’t a foolish person, she had a – a solidity about her. She seemed safe, right.

It was for this reason that Faith had been so surprised that Buffy had fallen for a charm as transparent as Scott’s.

“Well? Are you going to apologise?”

Faith looked up reluctantly. Buffy’s face, beautiful as it was, could pull some pretty irritating expressions.

Faith thought the answer to the question would’ve been obvious. “No.”

She felt like she had crash-landed back in elementary school, being scolded for hitting another kid. The only difference was that Scott wasn’t a kid; he deserved it.

Buffy groaned with despair.

“I didn’t even hit him very hard… It was more of a tap.”

Buffy gave up. “I’m really sorry, Scott.”

Faith watched her friend go silently, trying to contain an itching rage. She hated people speaking on her behalf, but she hoped that that was what Buffy had been doing because if that bastard had made her feel like she needed to apologise for herself then he deserved more than just a punch.

**

Sleeping with Buffy’s best friend hadn’t really helped as much as Faith hoped it might.

All it had achieved was a fresh burning hatred towards Faith, this time from red head. Faith didn’t care too much; Willow was annoying anyway.

What was more annoying was the occasional ridiculously suggestive look Xander would shoot at her once in a while.

Heading to their latest ‘Scooby’ meeting at the library, Faith wondered if the others had even noticed she wasn’t there this time. They were having quite a heated discussion she mused as she approached the voices coming from the library doors. Her hand stilled on the door handle as she heard what the voices were saying.

“And did I mention she’s a massive slut bomb? She could get any guy she wants and she still bangs any damn thing with two legs!”

Xander cut in. “Hey!”

“And have you ever noticed how she–”

“Will, I think you’re being a little out of line.”

The sound of Buffy sticking up for her softened Faith’s rage slightly, allowing her to enter coolly and calmly, as one should when entering a library.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Hey Buffy, Xander,” she didn’t look at Willow, instead turned straight back to Buffy. “You got any more info on that demon?”

“Yeah. It’s weird; it has like specific times it shows itself in the day.”

“The day? Well, I’m always up for a change.”

“Yeah. Well, more like late afternoon. From about 3:30 ‘til 6:30. But it still hangs out in the usual demon hang-outs and holes. We’re just waiting for Giles to come back with more research.”

“Let’s go now then! By the time we get there it’ll be like 3:30 anyway, let’s split.”

Willow rolled her eyes and Faith caught her gaze in its descent with her own.

“You got something to say, red?”

Willow’s chin seemed to cave in to her neck and her shoulders and collarbones protrude in her signature awkward-reaction look, “N-no.”

Faith took a couple of casual steps deeper into the room. Buffy then Xander had individual moments in which they seemed to be about to speak up in Willow’s defence. Neither of them saw it through.

“Oh, no, go on, please. I’m sure we’d _all_ like to hear your thoughts.” Faith flashed an absolutely winning smile Willow’s way.

“I just thought it was a little unprofessional and _reckless._ ” Willow said it as if Faith made her decisions simply for the motive of keeping up some kind of ‘rebel’ persona. “Giles hasn’t even come back with the research yet.”

“Faith’s right.”

All faces turned to Buffy’s. The young Slayer offered the young witch an apologetic look before continuing. “We don’t have any more time for books now we know when and where the thing is. People could die and we can’t wait around for that to happen.”

There was a sort of stunned silence in which no one could quite think of how to react to this statement. Faith was trying to quash an unrelenting smug grin.

She cocked her head and turned. Buffy joined her in her exit.

The door was held open for them by a librarian. They spoke to him in unison: “we’re going.”

Giles also reacted by bringing his chin back into his neck, but keeping his shoulders and collarbones relaxed. He raised a hand and removed his glasses, wiping them with his shirt as he silently watched his two slayers go.

They went to Willy’s bar first.

*

To the bartender’s despair, the pair of Slayers were well-known here. The regular demons preferred Faith, but Willy much preferred Buffy; she was more reasonable, if you could even call it that.

He flinched at the sight of two teenage girls walking through his bar and was not ashamed of the fact. They were more dangerous than any demon he’d served in his homely and innocent business.

His least favourite Slayer spoke first. “New demon. Comes about ‘round half three to half six. You seen ‘im?”

“You’d have to be more specific. And anyway, you know I have a customer privacy policy around here.”

“Look wise guy–”

The nicer blonde one cut her off. “Not much bigger than a human, a little hunched, kinda yellowy tint to it and with hair tufts at either side of its head.”

Willy raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t sound too threatening. I mean, there’s a few in here I’d have thought you’d–” he squared his shoulders and added “not that you could go round picking off my customers.”

“Well he’s been attacking students so he’s kind of a priority. And we don’t know what he’s capable of; we’ve not seen him; only Giles has. Anyway he should look something like this.”

She handed him a sketch and he had to bite back the laughter. “It’s not a very good drawing…”

“Hey!” Buffy snatched the paper back. “My watcher drew that!”

“Hey!” The second Slayer slammed her hands down on the bar and Willy thought his soul had attempted to leap out of his body. “We aren’t here to discuss use of cross-hatching. Have you seen the goddamn demon?”

Before Willy had a chance to speak, the smaller of the two Slayers spoke quietly. “Let’s hope you have.” It was fleeting moments like these in which the whole world seemed to change for a second. Despite her sanity, Buffy could create a sense of threat that even Faith could never hope to.

The bartender swallowed and spoke in a hushed voice and hoped to god none of his customers were going to rat on him. The two girls never seemed to appreciate how much he risked for them. Every night they arrived he had to change his shirt afterwards for all the perspiration the interactions caused. “Yeah I seen him,” he whispered, “’least _I think_ I ‘ave. You weren’t too specific. Lotsa demons have hunches and yellowy tinges. Anyway, if I’m right on who you mean, he comes in only on weekdays, and he’s always gone by six. Never stays late – not even if he’s hit it off with a nice lady demon–”

He gave a deliberate pause in reaction to the girls’ overly obvious shudders. They could be mighty offensive at times, whether or not they were defending humanity.

“Anyway, you should know he can have a mighty temper, and he’s a lot stronger than he looks. He’s knocked over a few of our bigger, spikier guys. What’s unusual though is the sorta thing what sets him off. Most demons have a bit of a temper, but he doesn’t like the weirdest things…” he trailed off as an important thing for them to know occurred to him. “Oh, and he knows you!”

Buffy looked confused. “What?”

“Everyone knows Buffy. She and I kinda create a bit of a problem in the demon world.”

Willy was beginning to become irritated by Faith’s eye-rolling attitude. “No, he _knows_ her. A group of vampires and demons were complaining about her and how they could live without her and how she’s killing off their minions and has the cheek to add obnoxious witty comments in their last moments and then he jumps in with all these weird complaints like… like how apparently you’re always late? And you don’t pay attention to what people are saying, you don’t take things seriously…”

He trailed off, running out of words and wishing they’d let him go and change. The girls didn’t say anything; they seemed to be frozen in perplexed amusement.

“I don’t have anything else,” he said, his eyes flitting to and from the door suggestively.

Faith narrowed her eyes at him before pushing herself from the bar and strutting out of the room, winking at a vampire as she went.

Buffy thanked him somewhat apologetically before going after her partner.

Willy got an old rag from under the bar and wiped the sweat from his brow and behind his ears. “More drinks anyone?”

*

“What now?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied. “We could wait around here or we could look around and come back tomorrow.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not good at standing still when there’s a killer on the loose.”

“Even if it’s the best way of catching him?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

The corner of Buffy’s mouth twitched, but whatever expression was coming was supressed. She had this thing where she had to be serious just because the situation was serious. Faith thought she’d go mad if she herself lived like that.

“Okay, let’s roam for a bit,” concluded Buffy, “But no kebabs.”

Faith laughed happily and the slight leeway in Buffy’s work-mode. “Awesome.”

**

They didn’t find the thing that night, but the thing didn’t conduct any killings that night either, so the slayers weren’t too wrought with guilt. They went back to Willy’s Place and informed him that there would be a hefty price for him if he immediately informed them at its arrival.

Apparently he hadn’t turned up at all since then.

**

Giles was leafing through Buffy’s latest school report. Things were improving; Joyce would be pleased. But there was still a lot of work to be done for her to achieve her potential. And that was why he had decided that his role as Watcher could have wriggle room: you had to teach, you had to do what was best for your slayer. And with the help of her mother, things could end up going very well indeed if one were just given a little push.

**

“Hey Angel.”

Faith slumped down next to Buffy’s vampiristic boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t really be sure.

“Hey, uh, Faith?”

“You got it.”

“Nice name,”

“Mm, I dunno, a little cheesy. I think faith isn’t really as helpful as people think it is. I mean, it wasn’t too helpful to the people who gave me the damn name. But hey, at least I’m not called Angel.”

There was a short silence. “It’s short for Angelus…”

“Come to think of it, Buffy’s not the best name either, and… Wow, I just realised Xander is the only one of us with a normal name. Alex, would be a more normal shortening I guess.”

Angel didn’t have a reply for this.

Faith looked over at Buffy. She was still going strong with her studying. Giles was going to be testing her the next day so Angel had come to make up for any loss of force this might cause. Faith didn’t really think this was necessary. It was probably more accurate that he was supposed to stop Faith distracting Buffy from her studies and the good path and her future and all that malarkey.

She looked back to Angel. His gaze had gone the same way hers had. She spoke suddenly, surprising herself. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you said that she’s the only girl you’ve ever loved.”

“I did say that, yes.”

“In all your centuries, you’ve never loved another?”

Faith didn’t feel it was a very believable story.

“That’s right,” he grinned, seeming proud of the fact he spent almost his entire life without loving another. Faith didn’t think impressive was an accurate description.

“So there’s been no-one. No-one at all?”

“Well, there have been others, of course,” he laughed, “quite a lot actually, which I think is fair for the time I’ve lived. But, I never felt… Well, there’s never been anyone like Buffy.”

There was another silence. Faith wished a soulless vampire would turn up; this one was getting on her nerves.

“Yeah,” she had subconsciously started tapping her stake against the stone they were sitting on, “I get that.”

“Faith!”

Faith’s eyes darted to where Buffy was rolling behind the temporary protection of a gravestone.

The demon let out a screech of pain as it cracked its fist against the rock. There would be more screeching to come.

It staggered back, howling an unearthly sound as it attempted to remove Faith’s dagger from its thick neck.

“Ugh,” Buffy sighed dispiritedly. “My notes are ruined.”

Faith slumped back to the ground, leaving the finishing off to Angel. She didn’t want to fight anymore; she wanted to go home.

Once she got her dagger back, anyway; it had been expensive.

**

Faith had a free Thursday night; Buffy was busy being ambushed by her mother and some homework assignments. It occurred to Faith that the fact that Buffy was the only person she hung out with outside school was a little sad. Or at least, the only person she hung out with regularly now – she hung with strangers all the time.

She quite enjoyed the feeling of bodies against hers, especially when there was music loud enough to excuse her from listening to what they were saying.

And, it was also a good time to pick up vampires. There, that was a moral and productive reason to be at The Bronze that night. She was protecting the lives of her future scores. This Thursday was one of those times: everyone was bouncing and loud and confused and everyone was hot and – Faith brushed up against a body a lot cooler than any living one should be. She eyed the vampire up. It was eyeing up the girl in front of her. Time to avert its attention.

“Good music, huh?”

Faith never really saw the use in good pick-up lines. She just made sure her body was close to its target and the rest came naturally.

“I guess,” the vampire eyed Faith up. She’d definitely succeeded in diverting her attention. “I can never keep up with current music.”

“No need.”

The vampire had a strange expression: it was like attraction but not. Vampires were gross. But Faith was a good actor. And it was easy to mirror desire when an example was right before her.

“A little loud though,” the vampire shouted over it.

Faith slung her wrists over her shoulders. “Care to go somewhere quieter?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She flashed a fang filled smile. She wasn’t exactly a subtle one.

It was a little cold outside; Faith would make this quick.

She almost leapt at the sight of another vampire outside, lurking.

“Angel? What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Buffy, thought she might be around here.” Angel looked the pair up and down disapprovingly.

The still alive and keeping Faith out in the cold vampire cut in. “This an ex of yours or something?”

“No,” Faith replied. “I do have standards. Well, not much, but –”

“You shouldn’t be with vampires like that.” Angel must get off being hypocritically judgemental.

“That’s a little unfair, why aren’t you telling the vampire she shouldn’t be with humans?”

Faith just managed to do some quick slaying before her prey was chased away.

Faith went on angrily. “You almost released a blood-sucking killer into the public with your weird obsession with sex. Oh wait, doesn’t this sound familiar?”

Angel’s face hardened. Maybe Faith had crossed the line.

“I just don’t want you getting involved with a vampire like that, that’s all. I was looking out for you.”

“How about you look out for Buffy? I heard she was dating a vampire; maybe you should do something about that.”

“That’s different. And anyway, I have told her.”

“Oh, so the same rule goes for her then: it’s all the human’s fault and the vampire is forced to go with whatever. No point blaming them, you know, the biters. You know, I think if you really feel that strongly about it then you should just leave her.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course. Well, if you do get some balls any time soon then you should. And it’s not just the bloodsucking thing – you’re a creep. And you don’t make her happy – you make her the opposite. Whenever you’re mentioned she gets all defensive and sad and moody. That isn’t how you react to the mentioning of someone who makes you happy and it’s not a sign of a healthy relationship and you know what?”

Angel made her flinch a second time that night. He now had her pinned against a brick wall, his scarily strong hands clamped over her biceps.

His face flickered. He couldn’t ever get rid of the vampire: soul or no. He growled through a pair of glistening fangs. “What?”

Faith held eye-contact valiantly. “I think there’s a reason why she went back to you – a reason that wasn’t that she wanted to.”

Angel’s voice had changed. It was a dark, raspy husk: unrecognisable. Faith wondered if this was the voice Giles had heard that time... “Tell me.”

“Because she wanted to _repay_ you. For you killing you.”

And then Faith was on the ground. He had hit her. For a terrifying moment Faith thought she had lost her sight before she realised her hair was covering her face.

“Faith,” his voice was normal again; soft and soaked with guilty angst. “Faith, I’m so sorry.”

She made sure her hair remained in front of her face as she stood, in case his fist had left a red patch. If he had marked her, physically or emotionally, Faith didn’t want him to know. She didn’t feel anything close to care towards him and she didn’t want him thinking otherwise.

“Don’t mention it.”

She returned inside.

 She had a soda to cool off for a little. She wasn’t half way down the glass by the time her solitude was interrupted.

“Hey.”

Faith was glad to find this one was human. “Hey.”

“I assume you’re finished with the other one.”

“What?”

“The other girl – the one you left with.”

“Oh, uh, not my type: a little cold.” Faith laughed. She did amuse herself sometimes.

“So,” the girl leaned closer, tucking a bleached curl behind an ear, “what would your type be, then?”

Faith laughed again. “Uh, I’m straight. Sorry.”

The girl raised her eyebrows. She seemed amused by this. “Oh, and I suppose that’s why you’re finding it so easy to keep your eyes off my chest?”

“Hey, you’re kind of on show. What did you expect?”

The girl leaned away, her face suddenly creased. “Ugh, I hate lesbians who think they can’t be misogynists just because they don’t have a dick.”

Faith’s eyebrows rose. The girl turned away.

“Wait. I’m sorry,” Faith didn’t want to be that person. The girl stopped to listen. “I’m really sorry for saying that. And for letting my eyes stray.”

She turned back and looked Faith up and down, as if assessing her legitimacy. She seemed satisfied.

“You wanna dance?”

Faith did.

*

There was the usual post-club buzz within Faith as she left The Bronze. She didn’t feel the need to go hunting that night, quite satisfied to go until tomorrow without seeing another vampire. Perhaps she could go without seeing another guy, too. New – and some old, never before noticed – ideas were flying around her head, happily uncertain, not quite settled yet.

Unfortunately, she did see a vampire. She spotted Angel and Buffy arguing across the street. She strolled over, wanting to see Buffy and maybe wanting to contribute to the discussion. It could be funny.

“Hey guys!” She grinned at them.

They looked like they’d seen a poisonous scorpion attempt to enter their conversation.

“Wow, bad time? I interrupting something?”

“No,” Buffy turned back to Angel, her eyes steely. Oh, this _was_ good. “No, apparently there shouldn’t be anything to interrupt.”

Oh, maybe this wasn’t so good. This was Faith’s fault.

Angel’s jaw set. “You know I love you, Buffy. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Well, why don’t you let me decide what that is?”

Guilty as the whole thing made Faith feel, she couldn’t deny that how she enjoyed Buffy being so cutting towards Angel.

“You’re right. I can’t make decisions for you. I’m sorry.” He looked between to two Slayers before he left. “I should go.”

Buffy stared icily behind him until he was gone.

“Damn, I should’ve brought popcorn,” Faith rambled happily, “Maybe a couple of sodas, a cup of blood for old Angelus–”

“Ugh, this is so messed up.” Buffy ran her hands through her hair and turned to the night sky.

Faith remembered she was supposed to be in comforting friend mode, not celebratory. She stepped forward and reached out, her fingers brushing against Buffy’s wrist before falling to her own waist once more.

“Well, if it’s over, then there’s no messed-up-ness.” Perhaps this wasn’t the best friendly _‘one the bright side’_ comment Faith could’ve come up with.

“Sometimes I don’t think it’ll ever be over with Angel.” Faith had definitely been right about the way Buffy talked about her ‘love’.

Buffy looked up to the sky again. “It’s nearly full-moon.”

“Hey, that’s an upside: at least you look good in moonlight.”

Buffy smiled briefly at this.

It was true. The moonlight danced and played over her hair and skin as if it enjoyed it – it would be understandable if it did. Faith realised that her night out hadn’t mattered – none of her nights had. Only this mattered to her.

“Faith?”

Faith realised she was inappropriately close to Buffy. She took a step back. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

Faith tucked a clump of hair behind her ear; it was irritating her. She didn’t quite know how to answer so shrugged.

Buffy talked on regardless. “You know, I just got allowed out, and I don’t even want to be out anymore. I want to go home.”

“You want me to walk you?”

Buffy looked a little startled. A small but warm smile began to spill across her face.

“Sure.”

**

The next night was their lucky one; Willy called the moment the thing walked through his door. Xander drove them, too pleased to be included in a strictly Scooby activity to care about missing last period.

Buffy was instructing. “Go round the side, in the dark corner over there.”

“Don’t worry Buffy, I get it. This operation is strictly top secret!”

Faith chuckled at the frown on Buffy’s face that Xander’s comments were inducing.

“OK, we’ve got you a big hoodie in case you’re recognised,” Buffy went on, “Willy said the demon knew me, so that means he might know you. And if you do see him, don’t approach him. If he attacks anyone, don’t get involved, just get us. All we need you to do is talk to Willy – in private – and tell him our offer and come back to us.”

“Okie-dokie,” Xander sprang out of the car and pulled the hoodie on.

“Xander, just don’t get in any fights. If something happens, you come straight to us, OK?”

“OK, Buffy you’ve said.” Xander had flicked the hood over his head and was now making ‘mysterious’ faces from beneath its shadow. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Buffy didn’t address the question. “Just go. And stick to the plan!”

*

Xander returned to find Faith had taken his seat. She had her hands on the wheel and for the moment before he remembered he had the keys, he thought they were about to drive away.

But Faith was just playing. And it crossed his mind that maybe she was making fun of him, but they were on business – on a _stake_ -out – and he didn’t have time for thoughts like that.

“I let Willy know of our deal,” he informed them, laying his elbows on the base of the open car window. “At first he didn’t seem too keen, but when I told him about the potential _money_ that could be involved, he was swayed.”

“And was he there?” Buffy asked.

“What?”

“The demon – was he there?”

“Oh! Right, yeah, he was. But like you said – I didn’t get involved in anything. I didn’t even say hi.”

“Good,” the pair in the car said in unison.

“Well,” said Xander, “do I have to go back in there or are you going to let me in the car?”

Faith took some notes from her wallet. “Can you get us a couple of chicken donner kebabs? We both have the cool white sauce stuff, but B doesn’t have red sauce. She can’t take the heat.”

Xander sighed. He supposed you needed food if you were conducting a stakeout. He forced himself not to suggest they might prefer to eat a couple of _steaks_ ; no one seemed to appreciate his humour anyway. Even Willow had stopped laughing at his jokes lately. So instead he went with “Fine.”

“Oh! And Xander!” He turned back to Faith’s call. She fished some change out of her pocket and handed to him. “Get yourself a little treat, too.”

He could’ve thrown the money right back in her face, but he was too much of a gentleman.

*

There was silence in the car as they waited patiently for their demon to depart the bar. Well, silence save for wrapper crunching and food chewing.

Xander thought it would be more exciting if it was the middle of the night.

And there he was.

“That’s him!” Xander cried helpfully.

Faith scooped up the weapons’ bag and the two slayers swung out of the car. Xander scrambled out of the back and after them, hoping Faith wouldn’t hog all the weapons.

He needed them a lot more than she did.

*

At the sight of the trio heading its way, the demon swore and fled.

“Hey!” cried Xander and Faith in unison, and the trio belted after the demon.

It wasn’t long before Faith and Buffy had lost Xander. They figured he could handle himself; they had to catch this thing.

The thing skidded as it turned a corner and Buffy had tackled it to the ground before it could make it ninety degrees.

After dealing a few blows Buffy was knocked off by a pasty arm with surprising force.

It didn’t last long; it was in one of Faith’s headlocks before it could straighten up properly. Buffy took watch while Faith hauled her way round the darkened corner, a demon throat gripped between her bicep and brachioradialis.

Though she had the demon secure for now, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him forever. She had broken into a sweat. She was very thankful she wasn’t the only Slayer in Sunnydale.

Once the three had reached a nice dark dank corner to fight, the demon’s head somehow found some wriggle room in Faith’s grip. Her arm was tired and slow and received the penalty.

Demons tended to have very large, sharp teeth.

An unholy agonised Slayer’s shriek echoed through the blackened and foul streets.

“Faith!”

“I’m fine!” Faith cried, a fist clamped around her upper forearm, her breathing unreassuringly ragged. “He’s getting away!”

She made a valiant leap and the back of the creature’s knees. Buffy then swung a kick at its head and was disappointed when its neck didn’t snap then and there.

She didn’t have long to stand be and disappointed as she soon had the side of a dustbin smack her to the floor. She was quick to send it crashing back into the demon.

Between the two of them, they kept the demon within their chosen dank corner. He wasn’t weakening as fast as Buffy would have liked, but she was confident the pair of them would manage.

The fight got a lot harder when Faith began to hang back. Assuming Faith was just tired, Buffy kept up the blows as best she could until her partner was OK to continue.

And then Faith collapsed.

And Buffy noticed for the first time that her fellow Slayer’s hand was stained a deep crimson.

Everything slowed down. All sound seemed to fall away, leaving just a buzz between Buffy’s ears.

“Who do you want,” Buffy flinched; she had forgotten the demon could talk, “me or your little friend?”

Buffy stared. The demon fled.

And then things weren’t slow anymore.

She crashed to her knees at Faith’s side and tore the girl’s jacket off, revealing a horrifying bite wound up the lower arm. Buffy’s mind sought for a source of make-shift bandage. She damned their tendency to wear leather jackets. Instead, she tore the bottom half of her shirt and tied a tight bandage around the bite. Next she held the wrist as high and straight as she could and began to speak loudly and clearly.

“Faith! Faith wake up! Faith!”

“Uh?”

“Faith, can you hold your arm up?”

“What?”

“Can you hold your arm in the air? Just for a minute while I check the bag. It’ll slow down the bleeding.”

“Oh, sure.”

Faith did so and Buffy simultaneously retrieved her cell and headed for the temporarily forgotten weapons’ bag, in the hope they had an unknown first aid kit.

They didn’t have one. She dashed back to Faith’s side to help support her arm and looked at her cell. How would she explain a bite of such a wide pallet to the ambulance?

The phone rang.

“Giles?”

“Hello?”

“Giles, Faith is wounded – badly – and I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice had cracked. She mentally scolded herself. She had to be cool. Getting emotional costs lives.

“OK, keep calm–”

“There’s a lot of blood.”

“OK, Buffy where are you?”

“Uh,” Buffy had a momentary brain failure and her gaze darted round in a panicked frenzy hoping to find a land mark of some sort. “Oh! Willy’s Place. No, round the corner a bit. By a – a metal railing, and there’s a fire escape. And there’s a sign and it says – it says _Old V-Varley Road_. There’s a lot of dustbins, if that helps.”

“OK Buffy, I think I know where you are. I’m already on my way. Is she on her back?”

“What?” She was finding it difficult not to cry.

“Is Faith on her back? It’s best if she’s bleeding heavily. Unless it’s from the back, of course,”

“Yes, yes she’s one her back. And bandaged and I’m holding her arm in the air and–”

“Oh bugger!”

“What? What? Did I do something wrong? Giles?”

“Oh no, you did all the right things. I just nearly ran over a _bloody jaywalker_.”

Buffy could have screamed at the man. But it wasn’t his fault. No, it was hers. If she’d only paid more attention…

Now she really was crying.

“Buffy it’s OK; Faith’s going to be fine.”

“How do _you_ know? You can’t see her. You can’t see how much she’s bleeding. It’s so _red_ –”

_It’s so red?_ Of course it was red. Buffy really was just a stupid teenage girl. She thought she was better than her school, the Watcher’s Council, but she wasn’t. She was a stupid teenage girl.

“Buffy,” Giles’ words were now coming out in gasps and pants. “I’m here, I’m just coming round the corner. I know where you are, I know the place–”

There was a crack and he was cut off.

“Giles? Giles! _Giles!_ ”

Buffy’s cell crushed within her fist.

Giles’ familiar voice came echoing down the alleyway. “Buffy!”

Buffy had the urge to run and hug him. She stayed put.

Giles was swiftly kneeling on the opposite side of Faith to Buffy. He shrugged off a rucksack that was surely aimed at children and tore it open.

“Draw a healing sigil,” he ordered her, handing over a tube of white acrylic paint.

Buffy’s mind leapt back to the Watcher-Slayer knowledge lessons Faith refused to take part in. She experienced a brief rush of ecstasy when the necessary symbol appeared in her head.

By the time she was half way through hurriedly squirting out the sigil Giles had already removed her amateur bandage and was chanting in a language alien to Buffy.

Once done with the symbol, Buffy knelt gripping her knees and staring at the wound, barely blinking.

The bleeding stopped. Buffy swallowed. The chanting had become a constant droning noise in Buffy’s head. Her eyes had not left the bloody wound for what seemed an eternity. And then the blood was clotting.

_“Scabs!”_ Buffy cried happily.

Giles had managed to keep up the spell despite Buffy’s outburst. And then it was done.

Giles sighed, somewhat pleased with himself. “It’s done. The wound shouldn’t open again unless she’s careless about it. It should heal nicely on its own. She may – will, I should say – have scars, but in the greater picture of things, she’ll be fine. Let’s get her back to the car.”

“Thank-you,” Buffy breathed.

*

Faith came to soon after they entered the car. Slayers were troopers.

“Faith!” Buffy beamed, nearly crying again.

_“Buffy!”_ Faith cried in mock excitement.

The expression of joy fell from Buffy’s young face. “Faith, _what were you thinking?_ ”

“What?”

“Out there! You said _‘I’m fine’!_ ”

“I was fine.”

“You were bleeding to death!”

“That wasn’t until minutes later.”

“Well how was I supposed to know when it got life-threatening? Faith, you could have _died._ ” Buffy’s voiced cracked into a squeak.

“Well, as you can see, I didn’t.” Faith proclaimed, stretching, crossing her legs, and placing her arms behind her head. “I’m guessing you lost the demon.”

“Oh my god, you’re so–”

Giles cut in pacifistically. “I think we’ve all learned an important lesson tonight. And what’s important is that we all came out the other side.”

The backseat slayers cried out in unison.

_“Xander!”_

*

Xander was lost.

After Buffy and Faith had escaped his line of sight, he had hoped he might find them and be of assistance in a stationary fight. However, he soon came to realise that this was a naïve assumption. It wasn’t long before his sense of direction had completely dissipated. There was no way he could find them; there was no way he could tell which direction they had ran in.

He wasn’t cut out for this. Sure, before all this Slayer stuff, he could uphold a private sense of strength above his friends as he lived in the hardest area and was physically stronger than all of them. Then Buffy came along with super strength, and Willow started doing magic, and of course Jesse died. And suddenly there was vampires and demons everywhere.

Sure, in all truth, he did love the scoobies and their world-saving antics. He’d even named them – ‘The Scooby Gang’. Though lately, it seemed the fact that he had named them didn’t make his role in the whole thing any more important. Despite constantly being around, he wasn’t actually important in the mystery solving. He was the joke. The talking dog.

He looked around. The streets were alien, fine and twisted, long and cornered, rank with the smell of alcohol and demon piss, and to top it off, it was properly night now. He cursed himself for wishing it on; he decided he much preferred the boring noon-light.

“Hey there, stud.”

Xander assessed the figure beside him, who was now walking perfectly in his pace. She was obviously vampire. That was one thing he’d picked up in the last couple of years: he could tell. Sure, he couldn’t quite _sense_ in the way Faith and Buffy could, but he’d learnt to pick up the signs: paled, dead skin; controversial use of make-up; clothing garments from totally random points in history. But most of all, the lust; there was something in their eyes; a want; a want that trumped any Xander would ever feel for girl or hotdog. He was glad of this. He thought that if he ever wanted anything that badly he would become something horrible.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Why you out in the dark, all alone? A nice guy like you, why surely you got a girl?”

She slung and arm round his shoulders. He shrugged it off.

“No, no girl. I was with friends, but I lost them.”

“Well that’s mighty hard. I bet you could use some company. A young guy like you,” her rouged lips puckered, her eyes flitting up and down his physique, hesitating slightly on his scarfless neck, “you couldn’t go without.”

“Sorry,” Xander stopped walking. “I’m gay.”

The vampire’s face twisted. Xander ran.

He ran and he ran, longer, harder, and faster when it was for his own life, rather than the potential lives that demon could cost. His heartbeat doubled, his breaths escaped in throaty rasps, his chest hurt.

The vampire suffered no such ailments.

He stumbled and nearly crashed into a lamppost, but managed to use his momentum to swing round it, the vampire following, swinging out, clutching and clawing. The street was cruelly bare of potential weapons.

Xander ran on, leaving the sleeve of an inappropriately Hawaiian shirt behind. Ahead he saw fluorescent flashing letters. He wondered if he were experiencing a mirage. _Willy’s Place_.

He crashed into the bar, paying no heed to the blur of colours that were Willy’s customers, rolled violently over beer mats and peanuts and slammed down to the ground on the other side. He lay on his back and breathed, unaware of Willy’s demands of explanation or of various undead fighting angrily to get a piece of him, he simply watched the ceiling’s colours and lights swim and dance above him.

Slowly, as the oxygen returned to his brain, his mind began to focus on what was going on around him. Willy was defending him, as Xander’s desperate optimism had assumed.

“Get back, get back! He’s a customer and friend! Go back to your seats, your drinks will be replaced, free of charge!” he was calling. There were numerous opposing opinions in the place.

“Let us ‘ave ‘im!”

“Why is he defending him?”

“That was my Mary’s prey, fair and square!”

“It’s because he’s a human too, that’s why!”

“Yeah!”

Xander’s phone was buzzing in his pocket.

“Tell us Willy, if you won’t let us eat him, why shouldn’t we eat you too?”

He flipped open the flashing cell and murmured into it. “Giles?”

“Xander, thank God. Where are you?”

“Willy’s Place.”

“It sounds a little loud in there. Are you alright?”

“Not really; I think they all want to eat me.”

“Bloody hell. Well, just try to stay out of trouble, we’re on our way.”

Giles had rung off. Xander sighed as he replaced his cell in his pocket. He was kind of already in trouble.

He eyed his situation. Most of the attention seemed to be aimed at Willy now, who was cowering terribly beneath it. Xander began to crawl backward towards the storage room.

“He’s getting away!”

An unholy oaf leapt over the bar, making a dive for him. Xander leant back and gave the thing an impressive kick to the face and made a clean backward roll.

His middle school had had a gymnastics team.

“Xander?”

The room’s attention was momentarily caught by a boomingly gentle English accent. Behind the librarian came two all the more interesting people.

“Where’s he hiding, a drink’s cabinet?”

“Buffy!” Xander’s cry came out silent. He would never run that much again.

“Maybe they already ate ‘im.”

“Faith!” This cry was hoarse, desperate, but very vocal.

Suddenly the latest Sunnydale Slayer was standing on the bar top. “Everyone move,” she ordered, “this one’s mine.”

There was a widespread growl of disagreement. Willy cowered.

And of course, then a fight broke out.

As Faith led him subtly out of the back door, Xander was vaguely embarrassed to see that Giles was dealing a lot better than Xander himself could have.

Without knowing which car they were supposed to take, Xander and Faith waited in patient silence for the other two to emerge.

Giles came out with a split lip and a slightly self-satisfied expression. Buffy walked a step behind, no change to her regular self that Xander could see, except a torn shirt. Perhaps a perverted demon had got excited.

“Which car do we take?” Faith asked, levering herself from the filthy wall she had been leaning against.

Giles looked between their two vehicles. “Let’s take Xander’s; he’s double-parked and I can simply come back for mine in the morning.”

Giles took the wheel with Buffy in the passenger, leaving Faith and Xander for the back. He was forced to the back – in his own car!

There were two separate conversations going on in the car, one in front and one in back, leaders and followers.

“You’re bleeding,” Faith said quietly, not wanting to interrupt the father-figure-esque exchange going on in the front.

Xander’s hand followed her gaze and met a trickle of warm liquid. There was a bump and it hurt. He hadn’t noticed it until now, nor could he remember how it got there.

“One sec, I’ve got one of those portable cold packs in the bag somewhere.” Faith buried her arm in their weapons bag and retrieved what she was looking for.

There was a small crack and Faith held the thing against his head. Xander winced at the combination of pain and cold. Then he smiled; this was a caring side of Faith he hadn’t seen before.

“See, I knew we had a connection.”

“Another word and I’ll finish you off.”

*

Buffy had her eyes set on the intricate plastic details of Xander’s car’s dashboard. She wished they’d thrown out the kebab wrappers; she could no longer stand the stench.

“I can’t believe I nearly got two people killed. I guess this is why the one and only Slayer is supposed to stand alone.”

“You saved two people. You handled yourself quite well under the circumstances. I don’t know many people who could manage without panicking.”

“I did panic. And out of it all we didn’t even catch the thing. It was a wasted trip.”

“You learned something about how the demon fought, did you not?”

“Well, yeah but–”

“And you had to fight it sometime. If you had not gone tonight, you would have met it another time, equally unprepared, and perhaps without the back-up you were lucky enough to have tonight. In any other situation, someone truly _could_ have died. And anyway, keeping the thing stalled is always a worthwhile activity; it keeps him from attacking more students in his short time out from wherever his lurking spot is.”

Buffy stopped staring at the battered dashboard and looked over to Giles. He always contradicted her. Whenever she was being pessimistic, he was optimistic. Whenever she was optimistic, he was pessimistic. She guessed that was a good thing. She liked having someone keeping things stabilized.

“I guess you’re right.”

*

They all went back to Giles’ apartment. Though small, it was a very nice place, and conveniently nearby Sunnydale College, which Buffy and Faith would inevitably be forced to choose, being the only force keeping the Hellmouth under control. Well, Buffy would go there anyway, Faith probably wouldn’t be able to afford to go to college even if they did let her sorry ass in.

Faith crashed on the sofa, still pretty worn out and missing a portion of her blood. She was glad she had super healing powers and an on-call warlock.

Buffy perched on the adjacent armchair with a cup of tea. She didn’t look too comfortable in that perfectly decent chair. Faith guessed she was still pretty wired from the whole experience.

“Hey, what happened to your shirt, B?”

“I decided to practice some textiles while you were unconscious.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it wasn’t me who needed the medical attention–”

Buffy didn’t smile.

*

There was a momentary wave of terror as Giles arrived downstairs before he remembered he had invited these youths here himself. Faith was still asleep. He couldn’t fathom how she could sleep so soundly on a sofa; it was beyond him. Buffy had woken before him. He did not know how long before, but by the look of her eyes, he guessed she hadn’t had very much sleep.

He sat as gently as he could on the kitchen stool aside from Buffy’s. He could see no steam protruding the mug clasped between her hands.

“Can I get you another tea?”

“It’s coffee.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Buffy gave her little laugh that never failed to induce that particular smile upon Giles’ face.

“Sleep is a very tremendous thing. It’s a great shame when missed.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I see that. Tea or coffee?”

“Tea would be nice, I guess.”

“That makes things easier. I’ll brew a pot.” He retrieved a rather charming tea cosy. “Now, are you going to tell me why my bed-making has gone to waste? I’m sure Xander feels quite isolated all alone in that spare room.”

“I don’t know, I just,” Buffy fingered the cooled mug. “I don’t know how we’re gonna beat this thing.”

Giles could not hold in a disbelieving chuckle. “Buffy, we’ve faired trials a lot greater than this before. Why, it wasn’t too long ago we – or should I say you – diverted an apocalypse.”

“I know but – what happened out there – I don’t know if I can bear to let it happen again – put my friends in that position. And I know I can’t fight it on my own. And even if I could, Faith wouldn’t let me.”

“Buffy, it isn’t your job to protect us. I think sometimes we forget you’re a seventeen-year-old girl–”

“–nearly eighteen–”

“Well all the same, you’re–”

“I’m the Slayer.”

Giles lay a hand on her shoulder. “And I’m your Watcher. Now, I have a question to ask you. While at the beginning of the American Industrial Revolution, machinery was mainly horse-powered, what did it then switch to?”

“Water power.”

“That’s right.” Giles laid a fresh steaming mug before her. “See, you can do anything.”

*

Faith woke up from a dream about horses roaming newly industrialised streets to find she didn’t quite recognise where she was.

“Good morning, Faith.”

Faith rubbed her eyes. “Morning Giles.”

She inferred that she was at Giles’ place.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Cereal?”

“Cereal would be great. No to the tea though, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like tea?”

“Well, I’ve never had it, actually.”

“You’ve never had tea?” There was a truly flabbergasted expression on Giles’ face.

“That is what I said.”

Faith hauled herself sleepily from the coach.

“What’s up, B?” She took the place Giles had been in a moment previously.

Buffy fidgeted, “Yeah.”

“B, I didn’t ask a yes or no question.”

“Oh. Right, yeah. So, how’s your arm?”

“Oh, that, yeah apart from the gaping holes in it–” Faith hesitated at Buffy’s expression. “It’s fine, really. All sealed – it doesn’t even hurt. Though, that’s just my arm. As for my stomach, that could use some _cereal!_ ”

A darkening rosiness flushed in Giles’ cheeks. “With that attitude, you’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out of my welcoming home! You can get your own breakfast.”

With that he stormed out and into the spare room, presumably to take out his anger on Xander with cruel acts such as ripping off duvets and turning on bright lights.

Faith laughed. “Drama Queen.”

Buffy was still staring into her mug’s murky liquid. “Better being a drama queen than not caring at all.”

“What? It was a joke about cereal. Has the world gone insane or was I unconscious for some change in the rule of manners or what?”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then what?”

“You just don’t care! Like last night, I don’t get how you can be so careless–”

“Well I’m sorry I ruined little demon catching. But I was only trying to help, you kno—”

“Faith, how could you thi—”

“Hey I know I’ve just turned up here and started messing up all your stable foundationed life but I’m only trying to do my job over here–”

“Faith you have no idea what I’m talking about and to be honest I don’t know what you’re talking about either!”

“Then what? What is it about me that’s bugging you so much?”

“Your _total_ disregard for your own _life!_ ”

Words didn’t escape Faith’s open mouth.

The silence forced Buffy’s gaze back to her unfinished and cooled tea.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Xander had crashed complaining into the kitchen before Buffy had had the chance to reply.

“I mean, what kind of person would _do_ such a thing? I looked up to you, Giles, but now I realise I was wrong all along.”

“It was time you were up anyway. And as you’re under residence in my home, I believe it’s my rules, and if you don’t like them, well you can just leave right now!”

Faith snickered. “Somebody’s got their knickers in a twist this morning.”

Xander laughed and a smile invaded even Giles’ lips.

Buffy took a reluctant sip of tepid tea.

*

That night there was a celebratory trip to The Bronze. As to what they were celebrating, Buffy guessed it was survival.

That bass guitarist – Ollie? No, Oz, that was it – was flirting with Willow again. Buffy was grinning at them. Faith left the happy couple to be and walked over to join her, only stumbling once.

“You’re an overly amazing friend, you know that?” she said, slipping into the stool beside her.

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look at you, idly gazing at Willow as she grows up in the flirting world of unwashed hair and guitars. You gotta let the kids fly someday, y’know.”

Buffy wasn’t entirely following, and changed the subject. “Let’s dance.”

After a short while Buffy said she was tired and wanted to sit down with a soda. Faith hoped she hadn’t subconsciously gone into the dance mode she usually saved for cute guys and vampires she need to remove for some private staking and thus scared Buffy away.

*

It wasn’t long before Faith had strolled over to join Buffy once more. “B, I wanted to talk to you. Look, I know I’m not the best slaying partner. I ditch patrol, I ditch school _for_ patrol, I’m mean to your friends, I lead us into danger, and I’m a bit of a moody bitch. And it may not seem like I give you that much respect, but I do. Respect you, that is. And I do like you. Even if I’m a little _brusque_ as Giles might say. And I’m sorry. Did I mention I like you? Yeah. Yeah, I did. You’re cool.”

And with that she danced back into the crowds and found a guy – or maybe vampire – to dance against.

Buffy had a feeling Faith was drunk.  She was slipping off her stool with the intent of going home and sleeping when she saw Faith drunkenly luring a vampire out of the Bronze and realised that a drunken Faith should not really be left alone.

Buffy slipped outside to the sound of a vampiristic growl and Faith’s slurred voice: “Get off me you man-whore. Ugh, you chipped my stake, that’s gonna give me splinters.”

The two of them were on the floor; the vampire on top snapping his teeth, and Faith lazily holding his face just out of reach. Buffy stayed quiet: distracting Faith further could be more dangerous than not intervening.

“Shut your mouth you sound like a crocodile.”

Buffy swallowed down a snicker. Faith ripped the guy’s head off.

“Ugh, vampire dust, I think it went in my mouth.”

Buffy couldn’t hold the laughter in this time.

“Oh, Buffy,” Faith rolled over, “I didn’t see ya there. No studs interested inside, aye?”

Buffy didn’t answer, instead proceeded to lift Faith by the elbow and lead her to where a taxi could be hired.

“Where you taking me, B?”

“Home. Are you okay?”

Faith displayed a sloppy grin. It was strangely attractive.

“Five by five.”

*

Buffy didn’t really want to leave Faith in that grotty motel room, go home, and then have to pay double for the taxi, so she just went straight home, assuming Faith could stay the night. Half way there she remembered her mother wasn’t the greatest admirer of drunkenness. Oh well, she seemed keen on seeing the best side of people and seemed fond of Faith. And if she wasn’t so pleased, Buffy could always pull the ‘ _you slept with Giles’_ card which she hadn’t used yet; it was new information.

“Try to act sober,” she muttered as she slotted her key into the familiar wooden door.

Faith slapped her on the back. “I _am_ sober, B!”

Buffy’s sigh was smothered by the click of the old latch.

“Hi Buffy,” came her mother’s voice from the dining room.

So she wasn’t asleep. Typical.

“Hi Mom,” Buffy called back casually as she shut the door behind them. “I brought Faith home to stay the night, if that’s okay. It’s just that we didn’t have enough money to go to her place then here in the taxi.”

Joyce left her computer to meet the guest in the hallway. “Hello Faith,” she said affectionately, as if she had known the girl since her childhood. “Well done Buffy, you’ve grown into such a responsible girl. Walking home alone can be very dangerous for young girls. It’s much better Faith come stay with us for the night.”

“I love your house,” Faith announced, seemingly awed.

“Thank-you, Faith,” Joyce replied in her you’re-so-cute-do-you-want-ice-cream voice. Some of the warmth fell away from her face as she saw Buffy’s incredulous expression. “Rape is a serious thing, Buffy.”

“I know, Mom,” Buffy said, a little offended, and glad Faith was drunk for this. And she _did_ know rape was a serious thing – she just didn’t think it was an issue for people with super strength to be worried about.

“I think my mom was raped once,” Faith commented coolly, still admiring the banister.

There was an awkward silence Faith didn’t seem to be aware of.

Before her mother had the chance to offer drinks and snacks, Buffy ushered Faith upstairs and put her to bed in the spare room. Faith had rejected the offer of borrowing Buffy’s pink frilly pyjamas so Buffy retired to her own bedroom, only backtracking to Faith once to leave her a bucket (just in case.)

*

Although she couldn’t bear not to go downstairs without her fluffy slippers, Buffy had dressed properly before going downstairs on account of their guest.

At the sound of Faith and Joyce’s voices, she paused at the foot of the stairs to listen.

“Do you want a coffee for that hangover, Faith?”

“Thanks, I don’t have one, actually. Us sl– youngsters– don’t get them. Though I would like a coffee, that’d be great.”

“Okay, two – or three coffees? How close do you think Buffy is to waking up?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I heard her talking in her sleep as I passed her bedroom. Something about Angel. But I can’t remember whether sleep-talking means light or deep sleep, sorry Mrs S.”

“Oh, she’s a big girl now, she can make her own.”

“I agree.”

There was a silence in which Buffy assumed the pair were too busy eating to speak. Buffy smiled. Joyce had a conservative air around her that could give the impression that she might be a little judgemental, but she wasn’t, really. She even hit it off with Spike once. And Faith was charismatic as ever, and with the extra touch of politeness you could almost mistake her as socially adept.

“Oh! Look at the time. Sorry Faith, I must leave you. I hope to see you soon. And eggs are in the fridge if you change your mind.”

“Thanks a lot Mrs S. And good luck.”

“Thank-you, Faith.”

Joyce’s face brightened up when she walked into Buffy at the bottom of the stairs.

Buffy was a little confused for a moment. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

“I have my interview today, Buffy. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, of course, sorry,” how could she have forgotten that? “Good luck, Mom, you’ll wow them all.”

“Thanks, honey!” said her mother brightly as she clapped through the door.

“Morning, Faith,” Buffy said sleepily, brushing the hair (that she’d spent quite some time getting the bed fuzz out of that morning) from her eyes.

She noticed Faith hadn’t made the same effort, but also that bed-head looked shockingly good on her.

“Your mom is a great woman. Sugar Bombs?” Faith was holding out a cereal box.

“No thanks, I prefer toast.”

“Oh, I thought it would’ve run in the family.”

“What do you mean? My mom doesn’t eat cereal.”

“I know she told me, I meant your si—” Faith’s face creased for a moment as if she were enduring a brief headache wave. “I don’t know why I said that. Never mind. So what are you gonna do today?”

“Didn’t have anything planned. Xander’s with Cordelia today so I don’t think I’ve got plans. I should probably do some studyi—”

Faith let out an exaggerated groan.

Buffy tried a different route. “I guess we could hang out. You could borrow some of my clothes.”

“If your clothes wardrobe is anything like your pyjama drawer then—”

“It’s not.”

“They’d be too small anyway. We could drop by my place so I could change. Not that I really care too much about re-wearing old sweaty clothes anyway, it would kinda be a waste of Slayer time.”

Buffy smiled as she spread a layer of her mother’s home-made jam.

“We’ll stop by your place.”

*

Buffy never quite knew where to sit when in Faith’s room. She took a perch at the edge of the bed as Faith went off to find clean clothes.

She wandered back in topless save for a dark laced bra, holding a shirt and sniffing it. “What do you think?” She threw it at Buffy.

Buffy sat there stunned with a shirt in her lap.

“Smell it,” Faith prompted her when it became evident she didn’t know what to do with the thing.

“Oh.” Buffy gave it a quick whiff. “It just smells like you.” She chucked it back.

“Now to decipher if that’s a good or a bad thing…”

“It’s fine.”

Faith buttoned the shirt slowly, fumbling with the buttons.

“Buffy?”

Buffy was a little startled. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean? Yeah.”

“You just seem a little out of it. Are you worried about something?”

Buffy blinked. She couldn’t quite remember – _was_ she worried about something? Then she did remember. “Oh, no, no, I’m just tired. Sorry. Anyway. What do you wanna do today?”

“I dunno, there isn’t much interesting open at this kinda time, and you’ll probably wanna see your boy later soo–”

“My boy?”

“Angel. We could just wander round, get food, or we could hang out here. Or we could drop by Willy’s place.” She voiced the last suggestion with a little grin.

There was a pause in which Buffy was struggling with which part of what Faith had said to address.

“Buffy, are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t do anything horrible last night drunk, did I?”

“No, no…though you did decapitate someone.”

Faith’s eyes widened.

“He didn’t have soul though, so it’s OK,” Buffy added.

“Ah, yeah, I do vaguely remember being mounted by a vampire in an alley-way… but there isn’t much space between that and dancing in the Bronze so I’m not too sure how I got there.”

Buffy smiled and Faith went on. “So if it’s not that then I guess we should’ve got you a coffee after all. You want me to get you one now?”

Buffy’s eyes flitted over to the little dingy kitchen and back. “No I – I don’t want a coffee,” she began, not wanting to be grilled any further, “it’s just, when you mentioned Angel,” Buffy saw Faith go into defensive-mode so she talked faster. “I don’t know if I really want to see him later.”

The tension in Faith’s muscles seemed to relax slightly. “Oh, something wrong with you two? Didn’t you make up from that fight? One beating heart just not enough for love anymore?”

Faith’s joke had gone amiss, which although disappointing for her, was probably a good thing. “No, we made up, but… It’s just different now. It really has been a long time, though I don’t know if it’s long for him. He said you sa—”

“Look, B, you can’t pin this on me. Guilt tripping your friends, it’s not nice. We didn’t do anything so why don’t you just go back to your lover boy and have fun times – just not too fun, you don’t want him going evil on your ass.”

“Faith – wait!” Buffy strode after her out the door. “I didn’t mean that, I meant it’s been different a long time.”

Faith stopped and her body relaxed once more. It was a little scary how volatile she was. “I mean,” continued Buffy, totally aware they were out in public. Faith didn’t seem to care; she didn’t seem to differentiate between public and private scenes. Maybe it was something to do with the fact she’d moved around a lot; it hadn’t mattered what people in the area thought of her. Buffy took a breath and went on more quietly. “I mean it hasn’t been the same since – since he came back.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Faith was grinning now, “ever since you realised you two couldn’t do the business.”

“No!” Buffy cried, momentarily forgetting about the public place thing. She lowered her voice once more. “No, I don’t care about that. But he went to hell and back, Faith. And things change. And I’ve been feeling for other people lately and that’s something I didn’t think I could do before and so –” Buffy direly wished they were back inside Faith’s horrible motel room, “and so that’s a good thing.”

“Who is it? Please don’t tell me it’s Scott. I mean, better a guy who can’t do the deed for genuine safety-of-the-world reasons than Scott. You know, I heard a rumour he has a fungal infection, y’know, down there. No, wait. I started that one. Never mind. But still. I know we agreed he’s a muffin, but he’s really not, he’s more like a cheese cracker without the cheese or any dressing. And half eaten. And mouldy. Really mouldy.”

“It’s not Scott –”

Buffy was cut off by a crash and a scream and her mind instantly switched to what was important – duty.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s a Saturday morning!” groaned Faith, before leaping over the rail after Buffy.

*

“Ugh, I hate demons. Their bodies are always so cumbersome. At least vampire deaths are tidy. Well, sort of tidy, anyway,”

“Faith can you shut up for a second– it’s okay, it’s gone now.”

Faith glanced over at Buffy, who was busy comforting the almost-victim. The girl looked about the same age Faith was when she watched her own Watcher die.

“I guess I’ll dispose of the corpse myself then.”

Buffy ignored her.

Faith rolled her head back and gave a great sigh before going to fetch a body bag from her wardrobe.

**

Faith had an instilled calm as she entered Sunnydale High the next Monday. She tried hard in her lessons, and didn’t even leave the campus until the end of the school day. What’s more, she didn’t even feel stupid for doing so – in fact, she felt quite smart. It had never really occurred to her that joining the idiots in following an idiotic system was actually quite an intelligent thing to do for the time being.

Her feeling was slightly stilted at lunch-break when she went to the library to join the Scooby Gang. To this day she was still unsure if she was part of it.

They were all buzzing around each other like flies, like most friendship groups Faith had observed in her time. Buffy was being self-consciously nice to Xander; Faith guessed Buffy was still under her little guilt cloud. Faith wondered if she herself was supposed to be extra nice to Xander. She wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with being nice to someone as some form of pay-back or apology.

She slumped down at the table, half wishing Giles would appear and spread a tragic news story across it. Apparently the three other occupants of the table were content with the tragedy of Willow’s love-life.

Faith mustered up some good-will and made a contribution. “What about that band guy who follows you round like a little puppy? He’s not too dogged looking, and he’s in a band. I was with a band guy once; good in bed. I had to end it though; musicians have an inner loser that becomes unbearable after particular amounts of time, depending on your patience.”

“But I don’t like him like that,” she said despairingly, “Sure, it’s flattering but…I like someone else.”

“Oh come one, Willow, you gotta accept the fact that you and Xander ain’t gonna happen.” She ignored the looks of scolding from Xander and Buffy (she didn’t understand why certain subjects were still taboo once everyone knew about them.) She leaned across the table towards Willow and muttered quietly, indicating it wasn’t for Buffy and Xander’s ears. “And to tell you the truth, he isn’t very good, y’know, at what’s important. Best take your bets with someone new.”

Willow seemed torn between laughing happily and frowning disapprovingly. She spoke when Faith had sat back down. “It isn’t Xander, I like someone else now.”

“Right,” replied Faith, wondering how long this relatively unimportant conversation was going to last, and how long it had already lasted before she had arrived.

She sat back and allowed the conversation to sail on without her and wondered why she was even there. The thing was: she didn’t care. She really couldn’t care. All their problems were so superficial that to hear them discussed so long was becoming rather aggravating.

Once arriving at the end of her patience, which didn’t take long, Faith hauled herself from her chair and headed for the door. She was intercepted at the last moment by an incoming librarian. If only her patience was just a little shorter.

“Ah, Faith, just who I wanted to see.”

Faith took a half-step back. “Ah…”

“I was spoken to by a couple of your class teachers today, and they told some interesting stories.”

“Hey, anything Mr Beezly says is a lie, I swear–”

“Good stories, Faith.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently you’ve had an academic turn.”

Faith recomposed herself, thoughts of the annoyance of others having fallen away. “Right, well, it’s not like there’s anything else for me to do–”

“Can we sit down?”

“Uhhh,” Faith was a little confused. “I guess…”

Giles addressed the others as they made their way back to the centre of the library. “This is a library, remember. If you’re not going to be doing any reading, at least be quietly constructive.” The three looked down to shade their childish guilty grins. Giles and Faith had a little trouble not catching the infection. His voice softened: “If you would step into my office…”

Faith did so. He sat and gestured to the chair opposite. She hesitated before sitting, a little uncomfortable, associating this kind of arrangement with a few negative teacher-student encounters.

“We have something very serious on our hands. It seems that you are very intelligent.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Giles looked a little startled. “Who said anything about bad?” He was a very confusing man. He didn’t seem to be aware of this. “Am I right in saying that, apart from today, you have paid next to no effort towards your classes?”

Faith shifted in her chair. “Kinda… didn’t really see the point, you know. There wasn’t much reason to make a good impression…”

“I’m not trying to scold you; you don’t need to justify yourself.”

“Ookay…”

“The point I’m trying to say is that, when someone has such an abysmal track record as yours,” he ignored her expressive reaction to this, “usually, if effort is suddenly applied, however strong, results tend not to immediately show – hence why people can fall into vicious circles. Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar in your education career so far–”

“I saw it more of a mushy boring blob of institutionalized distraction from what mattered like, I don’t know, survival.”

“Right, well, my point is that this hasn’t been the case for you. While others must work to the bone to get up to average performance when bouncing back from absence or, simply, lack of previous work, you were performing at almost a C-grade level today.”

“Almost a C grade? That’s a fail, right?”

“Well, yes, but just think – if that’s where one day of effort can get you, then with time, some afterschool studying – I can help with that, who knows what you could achieve?”

Faith was starting to see where Giles was going with all this.

“So–”

“Faith, it seems that you’re somewhat of a genius.”

Her jaw was left unhinged for a moment. She’d never had thought – well, she usually considered herself smarter than most people, but… That was just because most people were idiots. She guessed that was what made someone a genius.

The bell rang.

“You better be going – don’t want to smudge todays good feedback with tardiness!”

She paused at Giles’ weirdness. She gave a quiet laugh and shook her head before making her way to class.

*

Faith felt too weirdly happy to watch TV. She rolled over her bed and reached for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mrs S, it’s Faith, is Buffy home?”

“Oh, hi Faith, you should call me Joyce. Buffy’s with Xander and Willow at the moment. She said something about cheering up Willow. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Yeah. Well, thanks Joyce.”

“Oh and Faith–” she sounded as if she’d just been reminded of something important. And then there was a scream.

“Joyce!”

And then a crack.

“Joyce, what is it?”

And then there was another sound – something not – something definitely not human.

Faith tried to remember the fastest way to get to Buffy’s place from her own.

There was another crack and the line cut.

She was trying to visualise taxi and road routes before she remembered that she was a _Slayer_. She could take short-cuts, and she could run pretty fast.

*

“Where is she? The Slayer?”

“You won’t lay a hand on my daughter!”

The door crashed to the ground.

“She’s here! I’m the Slayer!”

She strode into the lounge and froze upon eye-contact with the vampire.

“Faith? You’re a Slayer?”

“K–” She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t cut out for this. She had come to Slay – for a nice, clean, uncomplicated Slay of a stranger she never had and never would again meet.

“Well, isn’t this touching? I never did get to meet your mother. I thought you said she was a drunk. But hey, you always did seem a liar. You know, I used to have this constant paranoia that you’d cheat on me.” He turned momentarily to Joyce. “We were _involved_ , you see."

“I was never with you. I was with the person you were before you became a vampire. And even he wasn’t particularly impressive.”

“What do you think, Mrs Lehane?”

“My name’s–” she shut up when she met Faith’s gaze.

The vampire carried on. “As the mother, I’d like to hear your take on all this.”

He slung an arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly Faith wasn’t sentimental anymore.

The vampire’s throat was slammed between the wall and Faith’s palm.

“You wanted a Slayer, right?” Faith’s mouth twisted into a malicious smile.

A crushed squeal of a voice replied her. “That’s right.”

A flower of pain quickly blossomed and rot within her ankle. “Aw f—” Faith clutched at the mantelpiece for balance and glared after the fleeing metal-tipped boots.

She raced after him to the kitchen, leaving Joyce lone and bewildered.

Faith was just through the kitchen archway when a knife flew past her cheek.

“Watch it! You almost cut some of my hair off!”

He laughed, having just replenished his hands from the kitchen drawer: another knife in right and fork in left. “You were always a feisty one. What is it that people say… hot blooded?”

He flashed a pair of dazzling fangs and his face twisted into something quite grotesque.

Leaping over the table, Faith met her foot with a chest and her palms with a pair of wrists. She broke his left first; she’d never been forked and didn’t want to try it.

“Argh, you bitch!”

He lunged forwards, destabilizing Faith’s perch on the table, sending them both crashing to the ground, snapping a table leg along the way. The vampire was now mounted upon her, swinging his new knife widely.

“Careful with that; you’ll take someone’s eye out!”

“I wouldn’t mind; the eye of the Slayer could sell well in the demon market.”

“Urgh!”

She made an effort to throw the thing off her to be cut short with a lodgement he had made in her hip.

She cried out and he snapped forward an inch from her neck before blocked by a hand. A pair of fangs to the palm was a lot more excruciating than a home-drawer-worthy knife to the hip.

Through tear-fazed eyes Faith spotted a silhouette in the kitchen archway.

“Joyce! Joyce, the table leg!”

It was all Faith could do to keep this thing from her jugular vein.

She could hear the sound of the woman fumbling. “Th-this?”

The tooth sunk deeper into her palm.

“Through his heart! Joyce, stab him in the back!”

Everything seemed to be fading away; Joyce, the vampire, only the searing pain in her hand remained, along with her desperate agonised breathing.

And then he was gone. Faith realised he had been blocking the light bulb above her when everything then got a lot lighter. The image of Joyce before her was a wavering. She wasn’t sure if it was because Joyce was about to faint or if it was a problem with Faith’s own sight. Maybe both.

“Could – could you get me some tissues – maybe a bandage? I don’t want to stain your floor. I don’t think red would suit what you’re going for with the place.”

She removed the knife from her hip easily; it hadn’t really gone very deep; it wasn’t exactly sharp.

“O-of course.”

*

Joyce seemed pretty shaken up. Faith was no better at comforting than she was at being comforted.

“It won’t take too long to clean up. And you can easily replace the table; there are loads sold like that. And I’m sure Xander could do something with the door.”

Joyce didn’t answer. Maybe a change of subject?

“Hey, just out of curiosity,” Faith slumped in the space next to Joyce’s on the couch, “what was it you were going to ask me on the phone?”

“Oh,” Joyce snapped out of whatever kind of stupor she had been in and looked at Faith. “I was just going to asked how you were, that’s all.”

Faith was a little taken off guard by this.

“What happened?”

The pair on the couch looked up to see a rather bewildered looking Buffy.

Distress began to re-enter Joyce’s voice as she answered her daughter. “A – a vampire! He came – he was looking for you!”

Faith took it that this was her queue to leave and rose for the door.

“Faith–” Buffy caught her elbow, looking down to the bloodied and bandaged hand and up again. “Are you OK?”

Faith shrugged her off. “I wasn’t when there was a pair of teeth and a knife stuck in me, but now you’re back from your little night out with your friends? I’m just fine.”

She strode out the door – or doorway – without another word. She guessed it was a little childish to bring up that Buffy had gone out without her after what had happened but, —whatever.

*

It had occurred to Faith, once having lost the distraction of having to comfort another, that she herself was quite distraught. She walked past a home painted sign saying _“YARD SALE / 9:00am—11:45am / Be there or be square!”_ She tore the thing from the earth, ripping the sign from its pike.

She tossed the wood from hand to hand as she walked, getting the feel; assessing its weight.

She came to find that it was quite a long way to the grave-yard when you weren’t driving or running at Slayer speed. But Faith did not want to run; she had done enough that day.

Something unexpected happened on her way: she bumped into Xander Harris.

“Faith!” he seemed just as surprised as she.

“Xander…”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Perfectly natural explanation,” she held up her picket, “Slaying. There can never be too few vampires about. And you?”

“I was just taking a walk.”

Faith raised her eyebrows.

“I – I don’t really like my house. I take walks a lot, helps me sleep, and as Giles might say, sleep is a virtue. Say, do you mind if I come patrolling with you? I’m not as useless as I look.”

“Oh, it’s nothing personal Xander, but I was kinda looking for some alone time.”

“Oh right, I get that.”

Faith was surprised to hear that Xander ‘got that’. She was surprised again to find that she believed him. She hesitated in her departure.

“You – you be careful.”

“Will do – and you be careful, too.”

“I don’t need to be.”

When Faith reached the cemetery, she was in hunting mode, thoughts of Joyce and Xander having easily faded away.

She tossed her picket back to her right hand. She stilled at the sound of footsteps similar to her own; hunting footsteps.

For a moment there was tranquillity: only awareness of her own heartbeat and the lack of one in her pursuer.

And then it was gone. The two flew around each other easily, dodging and blocking without hint of fleeing, as if their moves were choreographed. The pain in Faith’s hand had faded to a soft buzz in her ear, much like one of Buffy’s moral rants; easier to ignore with time. Faith remembered an important teaching of her first Watcher: vampires could feel pain, but did not let it hold them back in battle; this made them good fighters but bad survivors. But with their super strength and somewhat immortality, it was arguable they did not need to be good survivors.

She slammed the blunt side of her picket into the thing’s nose, as an experiment. The vampire swore but lunged and fainted with the same ferocity.

Faith tried slamming the sharp side to his heart and he was dust.

*

The mould on her ceiling was spreading. Faith wondered if the landlord would fix it, or whether she’d be blamed and told to deal with it herself. She didn’t care to find out so hadn’t mentioned it.

When she’d got home she’d almost expected a phone call from Buffy, maybe to ask how she was. Faith rolled her head over against her pillow to look at the telephone. It didn’t ring.

Eventually the stretched silence was broken by a car alarm blaring below.

*

Faith did, however, receive a call from Buffy the next day. She was apologising; should couldn’t come patrolling tonight; her mother was overreacting about the previous night’s attack and not allowing it. She expressed annoyance at how her mother didn’t understand and was being controlling but still managed to keep the call short.

Faith could not describe how irritating she found Buffy complaining about her mother. That night was the second of a string of lonesome patrols.eHe HHihigar eig

**

“Hey,”

Angel hoisted himself from his crimson armchair at the sight of Buffy. “Hey, it’s been a while.”

“A few days,”

“Yeah, I guess someone who’s lived as long as I have shouldn’t mind that. But,” he made his way over to her, so he had to look down to make eye-contact, “it’s different with you.”

He ran a hand through her hair. She walked to the centre of the room. It was more of a _I’m making myself at home_ than a _I’m rejecting contact_ , really.

“So,” Angel put his hands in his pockets, “How’ve you been?”

“Good, things have been good.”

“You’re not – I guess you are – still with that Scott guy?”

“Oh no, no, we broke up. We had, ah, artistic differences,” _artistic differences?_ “I’m not with anyone.”

“Oh right. I’m sorry.”

Angel really wasn’t a great liar. Or at least he wasn’t being one at that point; she knew he could put up a pretty good act when he wanted. She guessed he did the bad liar thing on purpose; it was a less awkward way of getting your point across than simply telling the truth.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t a bad break-up. We’re still friends. Or at least I think we’re still friends. We don’t really talk much.”

“Right. Can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, no thanks. I can’t stay long; homework and Mom and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Angel, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I wanted to talk to you too. But then, I always want to talk to you.”

He took another step closer. Buffy fought the urge to back away further.

“I don’t think – I don’t think we can–”

Angel froze like a rabbit in headlights, suddenly looking a lot less powerful. “You don’t think we should see each other?”

“No, no! Well, yes, but no, no I’m not saying we should _never_ see each other, I just think it’s best that–”

“I’m not good for you, I know. I guess deep down I always knew.”

He was back in his chair now.

“What? No, it’s just that things have changed and I don’t think–”

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“Has Faith said anything?”

“…No.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked into her eyes beseechingly, trying to find a reason; evidence; justification of what she was doing. Suddenly Buffy was angry.

“What it is is what I told you. There’s no one else. It’s nothing to do with whether or not you’re _good_. It’s because I don’t want this anymore. And that’s enough.”

She was storming out, but by the time the door had shut behind her all the anger had faded away, leaving a much softer and undefined feeling.

*

And Faith danced.

She did something she had never done before; something she would never have done if she were with Buffy; something she would have never done if she weren’t alone.

She exhausted him. She drained the vampire to the point where he could barely move. He was a whimpering wreck. Faith didn’t think she had ever seen a thing so pathetic – it was worse than when Xander had deliberately left his underwear at her place.

He made eye-contact with her. It was something vampires only did when maliciously taunting, she thought. Apparently Angel wasn’t the only exception to this rule.

“P-please. I’m sorry. Let me go – I won’t do it again – I promise.”

It didn’t matter, she reminded herself: he didn’t have a soul.

He had his hands clasped together in a tight white tangle.

She cocked her head to indicate he could go.

“Th-thank-you,” he blustered and began to hurriedly stumble away.

Faith took a deep breath before throwing a stake through his back.

*

Buffy wandered slowly away from Angel’s crypt. For a moment she could barely recognize where she was. It was so dreary. It was a cemetery after all, she supposed. And then a harsh notion hit her: everything here was dead. Everything here was dead, except her. _One girl in all the world._

Suddenly a growling mass of fur and claws was crashing into her.

The beast met her stiletto with a howl. After a fist to the muzzle the thing realised to flee was the best option. It trotted back into the woods, whimpering loudly. Buffy didn’t go after it; there had been something non-demon about it that told her she shouldn’t. Once it was gone, she wasn’t sure if it was the right decision.

She poked a finger through the newly crafted hole in her jumper. It was a rather large hole.

That had been one of her favourite jumpers. All her others had been ruined, too, now she thought of it. God, she couldn’t even have clothes! Buffy was surprised that at that thought she had begun to cry. Ugh, she was so shallow; people were in grave danger and she was crying about fashion. She began to shake and had to sit down.

“Are you alright?”

Buffy looked up to this apparently considerate vampire. He was littered with soil – a newbie. She shook her head.

“You lost someone?”

“Do you care?” asked Buffy, a little intrigued to know.

“Of cou–”

The vampire stopped and looked confused for a moment. Then his face became demonic. “No,” he said, sounding a little surprised but very pleased. “No, I don’t care at all!” He spun on the spot and laughed. “Well, that’ll help things in my life move along, won’t it? Hey, do you happen to know what I’m doing here?”

“You’re a vampire. I don’t know if you’ll remember, but someone – another vampire – bit you, and I guess you didn’t turn quick enough so they buried you. And here you are.”

“Oh. I see.” He looked around, soaking up this information as if it were totally normal, seeming more interested in a group of leaves than what Buffy was saying. “Thank-you. You know it’s funny, when you realise people are only nice to each other because society taught them to be. And then you’re cut off from society – you die – and then you realise that actually, you don’t _have_ to be nice to people at all!”

“I don’t think that’s why you’ve stopped caring; it’s because you’ve lost your soul. The caring, human side of you is dead. That’d be why you were buried.”

The newbie grinned. “Well, that sure is helpful!”

Buffy fingered the stake in her pocket. She wondered whether she’d be pleased if she were to lose her own soul.

“Now, I think I’m done with small-talk for this lifetime.” He growled and pounced, as if in a conscious attempt to shrug off humanity.

He was dusted before the two of them made contact.

*

It was a cold walk home.

It had been a lot like sex, Faith thought. The fight had been exhilarating, and so good while it lasted, but it had left her feeling empty and like she had pointlessly pissed away a great deal of energy for no good reason.

It took around five minutes more of walking before it occurred to her that comparing a fight to sex probably wasn’t a good sign. It took about half a second for her to conclude that anything was better than thinking like her middle school counsellor. ‘Bad signs’. Ugh.

**

Giles was not happy.

“There have been _two_ more attacks on students – _fifteen years of age!_ You’re just lucky we haven’t had any deaths because trust me, those aren’t too easy on the mind! When was it we last saw the demon? Five days ago? Have you even been looking for it?”

“Yes,” Buffy answered, “we have, and we have Willy looking out for him, and Faith’s even been taking time off school for extra patrolling–”

“And I’m not happy with that, either!” He turned to singly address Faith, now. “What happened to working hard in school? Or at least turning up for the full day? You know, I have this sneaking suspicion that you aren’t looking for our demon when you go off wandering god-knows-where.”

Faith didn’t answer.

Giles took a deep breath. “I suppose we could all use a break. I’m going home for the night. Let’s hope I’m not needed for any more emergencies because I really am tired.”

The door crashing behind their Watcher left a silence more powerful than his words.

Finally, Buffy broke it.

“I guess we should go patrol.”

“I’ve already patrolled today.”

“Why do you keep patrolling on your own?”

“Why the hell not, B? We both know we’re perfectly capable of handling ourselves lone. In fact, it’s a lot faster, and patrolling separately would mean double the slaying. So why exactly do you want me to slay with you so much?”

Buffy was left without words.

Faith felt the rush of both victory and failure wash over her at once. She felt as if she were suffocating.

Buffy finally spoke: “whatever,” and left.

**

Buffy had told her mother that she was staying behind school studying history again, just like old times. This time, though, she had actually told the truth. She didn’t really feel like patrolling today. She often didn’t, of course, but she was no longer obliged. Faith had already done it.

And Buffy had really thought she’d love not to have to patrol for once.

“I hate history.”

Willow replied with a tentative smile, “if only the exam was on demon history; you’d be set.”

Buffy laughed, partly out of affection at her friend’s cheering up attempts. Willow wasn’t usually this sympathetic in her tutoring sessions: it wasn’t productive when in teaching role. “I’d probably flunk that too.”

“Maybe a change would be good for keeping up your focus.” For a hopeful moment Buffy thought Willow meant they should take a break. “Let’s change topics. The other textbook is in isle 2, on the fifth shelf.”

Buffy sighed and went to retrieve another volume of drudgery and self-disappointment. This one was particularly heavy.

She opened the cover and looked down the withdrawals list. Faith was the last one to take it out. Buffy was surprised; she didn’t really think Faith studied. She supposed the girl had to give the school at least one reason not to kick her out of the place.

“…Buffy?”

Buffy’s head shot up a little too fast. Willow was standing right in front of her.

Her head was cocked to one side. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s _wrong_ , Will. No, just a little disturbed by the inhumane slaughter of King Henry the Eighth’s wives, that’s all.” Buffy cursed her voice for going high and squeaky at unhelpful times.

“Buffy,” Willow’s eye darted down to the unopened book and back up again. “What is it?”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Faith,” she began. “We’re still fighting. Well, not fighting, but–”

She took a moment to glance up at Willow to check if the mention of Faith had hardened Willow at all. The girl still had her genuinely concerned face on. Buffy was so glad her best friend had got over her incomprehensible crush on Xander.

Buffy looked down at the shut book in her hands. “We’re not fighting but we’re not really – we aren’t…” Her knuckles had whitened to a shade close to that of the pages in the book they were clutching so desperately to. “Willow I have feelings for her. And I’ve been feeling really lonely. It’s like with Angel, it’s not just that they aren’t around it’s that no one else knows and I just feel so isolated from everyone and–”

She swallowed and looked to her friend, wondering whether there would be disgust at the gay thing or just the fact it was Faith or maybe both. Disgust was nowhere to be seen.

Willow’s usually soft face had softened to an extent that shouldn’t be humanly possible, her orange brows raised in the centre, bottom lip protruding ever so slightly, eyes glazed and shining like her coppery hair. She looked like a teddy bear.

Buffy, who had been subconsciously preparing to backtrack, didn’t quite know what to do next. She was quite taken aback when met with a tight hug; she’d thought coming out to female friends would mean less contact not more.

 And then something else unexpected happened: Buffy started crying. She hadn’t expected it to happen. She suspected Willow had squeezed the tears out of her.

Meanwhile, Willow was saying “I know” quietly over and over. When the hug was over and they sat down she said it again but at a proper volume this time.

“I know,” she said. And then there was a pause. “I actually know.”

“You _knew_?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t know about _that,_ but I do know how you feel. Um, you know I told you how I liked someone but wouldn’t tell you who it was?”

There was a fleeting moment in which Buffy thought it was her. “…Yes.”

“It’s Harmony.”

Buffy was glad that she had come out first: Willow would have found her gaping mouth offensive otherwise. “H-Harmony?”

“Yeah.”

“But – but she’s horrible to you!” She realised it was not a tactful thing to say a moment too late.

Willow was staring at her own knees. “I know.”

Buffy’s head rolled back to face the ceiling. “Wow.”

“Uh-huh.”

Buffy put her hand over Willow’s and they sat for a moment. Then Buffy said something she never thought she would say. “Let’s get back to history.”

It was a night for firsts.

**

“S-sorry,” mumbled Faith after bumping into someone.

She looked up, surprised to see that it was Buffy she’d blindly walked into.

“Not like you to be late for school, Summers.”

“Only late by your standards. I’ll have you know I was quite the rebel before you came along.”

“I suppose you only got responsible to cancel me out, then.”

The Sunnydale Slayers were laughing a little too loudly when they walked into the local Hellmouth Highschool. It echoed a lot more when everyone else was already busily in class.

“Buffy! What time do you call this?”

Most teachers would choose Buffy over Faith in a heartbeat, but Principle Snyder had a very special hatred for Ms Summers.

“Sorry sir,” Buffy was replying, “we got caught up–”

“Doing what, may I ask?”

“Uhhh,”

Faith was itching to intervene but could not think of words to intervene with.

“Well, you and your little friend better make your way to class, or there will be consequences.”

And with that he turned and strode away, reflections of electric light bouncing on his bald head as he went.

“Wow,” said Faith, her words returning, “what a jerk.”

She looked over to Buffy, expecting agreement. Instead she saw a strange expression on her friend’s face, staring after her headmaster.

“You alright, B?”

Maybe she was aroused. She did have a thing for older guys, as Faith knew, and pointlessly moody ones at that. Maybe it was sexual frustration that got Snyder down, too. Though Faith thought it unlikely that the reason he didn’t get any was to retain untold misery and anguish on the world. Or at least not the kind Angel was concerned about.

“Yeah, Faith I think–”

“Girls!” barked Snyder, facing them once more, this time from the end of the corridor. “Class! Now!”

Twelve years in the education system meant Faith and Buffy immediately departed for their lessons on this command.

*

“Well, _that_ was an interesting Biology lesson.”

Buffy’s classmate nodded and laughed nervously in agreement.

Maybe the boy had a crush on her, Buffy mused idly, either that or he was heavily disturbed by the last hour.

“Buffy!”

“Cordelia,” she replied, always a little surprised when the girl approached her without malice.

“Giles wants you in the library.”

Buffy groaned. “OK.” But school was _over_!

When Buffy reached the library Giles was pacing. This did not bode well.

“Buffy! Come inside, quickly. Now, I’ve just noticed a correlation in all the victims of our demon – oh, why didn’t I see it before–”

“What is it?”

“They’re all _bad_ students, Buffy,” he paused, as if he’d lost his thread. “—where’s Faith?”

“She’s in detention. Today’s detention day.”

Giles made an urgent face at her that said something along the lines of: _Well?!_

Understanding crashed upon Buffy like a mound of textbooks. She ran.

“Buffy, wai—eh…”

*

Buffy slammed through the door and straight into a steady combative stance: feet shoulder width apart, one behind the other.

All the eyes in the room turned from their dull occupancy to stare at her. This included those of Principal Snyder and Mr DeJean; the teachers supervising the detention. There was nothing demonic in sight, only the sight of boredom transferring to mild interest and judgement.

“Did you want to join us?” Snyder cocked his head at her, a strange glint in his eyes that made Buffy want to move from its course as soon as possible. “I’m sure there’s some unpunished offense on your conscious we could remedy.”

“N-no, sir, I think I just walked into the wrong–” her eyes sought and met Faith’s frantically, “–the wrong classroom.”

“Well then, sorely as we shall miss you, Ms Summers,” The Principle turned to the teacher at his side, “Could you escort her out, Mr Dejean?”

“Of course, head master.”

“Tout suite!”

Once outside in the corridor, Mr Dejean remembered he had been meaning to talk to Buffy and that a meeting in his office would be a good idea.

Sitting across from her French teacher, Buffy was finding it quite difficult to concentrate on what he was saying.

“While considering your short time from school and your – ah – somewhat disappointing grades from last year,”

Why had she left?

“Your progress has been very good, which led me to give you quite a high target grade. But the thing is, we are still nowhere near achieving that,”

When Snyder had asked her if she had wanted to stay, why could she not have simply answered _‘yes’_?

“And the thing is, if my students don’t reach the targets I set, well, it doesn’t look good on me. So I was going to ask if maybe you could stay behind for extra credit–”

There was the sound of a distant crash. Buffy wasn’t sure if it was real or just her own paranoia.

“I’m sorry sir, I really have to go – can we talk about this later?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

There was a very real roaring coming from the detention hall. Buffy smashed in to see their demon snarling and stretching before a group of huddled students.

Faith lay separate in the corner of the room, limp.

A rage rose and engulfed Buffy, rushing through her veins and flowing from her fingertips. Giles would say this kind of emotion in battle was distracting and could be dangerous. Faith would say it gave her an edge.

*

The colourful image of a fight moved from right to left before Faith.

For a moment she wasn’t sure of much: where she was or why, only that it was very noisy.

Shakily, she hoisted herself to sitting position and took in the situation, memory returning. There was still a tight huddle of terrified delinquents and a demon, only this time it was Buffy holding it off, not herself.

Faith shouted at the huddle. “Move! Either help, or get out!”

They stared at her. Faith could currently not imagine anything more aggravating.

_“GET OUT!”_

The demon turned on her and a low growl began emitting from its bouncing Adam’s apple. There was a terrible demonic glint in its eye as it stepped closer and closer towards her, an expression of pleasure spreading, swimming and twisting across its yellowed face.

“Hey!” Buffy cried, beginning to throw chairs at the thing.

It ignored the furniture bouncing from its back, eyes unrelentingly interlocked with Faith’s. She scrambled back, further into the corner, and her leg screamed a reminder that she was injured. The room darkened as the thing got close enough to block out both window and bulb and Faith was ashamed to have let a whimper escape.

“I _said_ ,” and there she was, between Faith and untold misery, “hey!”

Faith felt a fleeting rush of elation as the demon suffered a Slayer’s kick to the temple.

It didn’t seem fazed.

Faith tucked herself further out of the way of this very dynamic fight. She felt like one of the snivelling students grouped at the opposite end of the room.

There was a crack of chair leg and skull before Buffy fell. Faith lunged. She managed to act as a human cushion. She adjusted herself, ready to stand.

“You want some, Snydy? Yeah well you got it, you sick little–”

“Buffy?”

Faith looked over to see Giles standing in the doorway, some crossbow-like contraption in his arms. A groan of relief was released as Faith sunk down the wall back to the ground, weight no longer applied to her bad leg.

Giles’ face set at the sight of his two slayers almost slain.

“Excuse me,” he said hardly, as a dart was released from his crossbow.

It hit the thing in the shoulder and a roar echoed through the school as it charged at the school librarian.

And everything was haywire again: fast and displaced; jagged and noisy. Even Faith’s own heartbeat seemed to have slipped out of sync, occasionally hurting her chest in its efforts to supply sufficient oxygen. She couldn’t fight. She didn’t know what to do. The only steady thing left was the breath meeting her collarbone; warm and alive; in and out.

Faith knew what she had to do. She had to get Buffy out. Remove the casualties.

Shifting the source of steadiness, Faith slung Buffy over a shoulder and brought herself to her feet. Sweat instantly broke across Faith’s brow at the cries of her anguished leg. She ignored it and ran from the scene, smashing the fire alarm as she went.

It was in an empty corridor that she collapsed.

Panting, she crawled over to assess the damage to her cargo. It was quite hard to tell; her sight was swimming again. Faith shut her eyes tightly and tried to focus on nothingness. She wasn’t sure how long she knelt like this, but she estimated a few seconds.

When her eyes opened everything was still and clear again, and a little of her calm returned.

She leaned forward. “Buffy.”

There was no reaction.

There didn’t seem to be any bleeding or anything needing to be immediately needing attention, so Faith rolled her into the recovery position and thought about how she might be of use to Giles – if he was still alive.

In reaction to this thought, a group of imaginary needles began to tickle the backs of her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and tried to clear her head again.

She had thought she couldn’t fight. She screwed up the eyebrows hidden beneath her fingers.

She could throw a dagger, spin a shuriken, and fire a crossbow, all with some impressive ability. She could definitely fight. The question was how to get to the weapons, and then how to get back to the target.

As for the question of how to reach the target, that was answered almost immediately.

Faith cried out in joy. “Giles!”

“Ah, Faith,” he was moving backwards, almost at a run, still firing darts at the thing lumbering after him “I can’t say how pleased I am to see you.”

“What do you want me to—”

“Argh!” Giles threw the crossbow at the beast and watched it bounce from its shining scalp.

“I’m guessing you’re out of darts…”

“Catch.”

He tossed a vile at her and she did so. “It’s the leftover serum for my darts. I’ve weakened him already.” He fell into a well-trained fighting routine with the ogre before. “If you can get that down its throat–” he staggered back, winded. “ –Then–” he jumped and implemented a kick to demon chest. “This fight would be over.”

He ducked and rolled from a blow just skimming his backside. Faith looked down to the delicate vile in her hands and uncorked it carefully with thumb. She didn’t think she had held something so precious in her entire life.

“Try and get him over here. I can’t really walk.”

“That – would be – what – I’m trying – to do.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Giles’ voice came out in a choked wheeze: “Forgiven.”

Faith wondered why he bothered speaking at all. Faith herself would’ve just focused on the fight and let everyone else fill in the gaps themselves.

Giles seized the fallen crossbow and swung the wood hard into demon jaw, sending the thing toppling towards Faith. She scrambled backwards, vile in one hand and the other ready to harm.

And it did. The moment the demon hit the floor Faith had a fleshy cheek grasped in her fist. With a determined cry, she thrust the vile to demonic lips. She cried out again as a lumpy hand met her head and snatched at her hair, yanking from side to side. There was a panicked uncontrollable moment in which Faith was being dragged by the roots of her hair. In that moment the vile was spat at the wall and shattered. Everything slowed as pieces of glass and droplets of carefully formulated solution flew in all directions. Faith’s elbow dug sharply into the arm governing the current movement of her head. It released her. She swung her leg over the demon’s back and ignored the crippling pain as it cracked against the floor. A yellowed flaky ear tightly in each of her fists, Faith wrenched the head up and plunged its face down into the clear glassy puddle.

A word came from between her clenched teeth without her notice: “eat”. She repeated it as she smashed the lump beneath her into the hazardous puddle, over and over and over.

“Faith…”

Again and again and again.

“Faith,” she flinched and froze at the hand on her shoulder. “You can stop now.”

She was panting very heavily, her chest desperately heaving up and down, quite painfully. She rested her head against Giles’ knee and allowed herself to slowly slip from the motionless body beneath her, her hair sticking to the sweat on her face as she did so. She shut her eyes for a moment.

When her eyes opened, she found she had been propped against a wall. Giles was lifting Buffy carefully from the floor. Faith scanned Buffy for any flying-glass-related injuries. There didn’t seem to be any. The Scoobies didn’t seem to often get those kinds of injuries.

Her head rolled over to look at the corpse spread across the ground. It seemed Giles had rolled it onto its back. Faith looked at Principle Snyder’s dead, bloody face.

“Did…did I do that, Giles?” Her voice faltered into a whimper. She felt too tired to be embarrassed at this.

Giles stood, Buffy in his arms, looking at Faith, searching for the correct words. Eventually he chose: “It was necessary. I’ll be right back.”

He was right back. Or quicker than Faith had felt he was.

She tried as hard as she could not to look at the body.

By the time Giles had returned, Faith was two metres closer to the library and significantly queasier. He bent over, a little breathless, and held out his hand.

“Apologies, don’t think I can carry you too.”

She forced a smile that slowly became genuine. “Forgiven.”

Walking was a lot less painful with a librarian under one arm, but Faith was still unable to prevent the occasional gasp pass through gritted teeth.

But everything seemed a lot softer once out of the harsh electric light of the almost hospital-like school corridors and into the warm and familiar book shelf filled library. There was a pile of dishevelled papers next to a cleared table which now had Buffy laid upon it. Giles pulled a chair from it and placed there his second Slayer. Next he fetched a stool for her leg and felt it for a moment.

“Ow–” Faith stuck a finger in her mouth.

Giles rose up straight. “Don’t move that. I’m going to sort out the body.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I thought a nice spell could clear things up. And maybe a table cloth and spray if there’s any leftover splatters.”

After the initial blissful wave of calm at the fact that someone else was sorting everything out, Faith faced her next upcoming challenge: that of sitting still. She reached for a pen and began tapping it against the table. Eventually there was a small cavern in its edge.

“Would you stop with the tapping?”

Faith stopped. “Buffy? Are you okay?”

Buffy made a sleepy and rather awful attempt at sitting up. Faith let out a – was that a giggle – ew.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She blew clump of fine bleached hair from her face. It did not go the intended path, instead dispersing in a miniature frizz explosion. “What happened after I was knocked out?”

“You mean after you saved my and every other detentioned life?”

“Uh,” her face developed a smirk, “yeah, after that part.”

The smirk was a little contagious, despite the somewhat serious circumstances Faith had just been pulled from. “Well, while I grovelled in the corner failing at intimidating the thing, Giles was on his way with some – some serum filled darts. And so he started shooting these darts at it and I escaped with you–”

“–I hope I didn’t get in the way, sorry.”

“Oh no,” Faith met Buffy’s too often apologetic eyes. “Don’t apologise. I think you helped, actually – kept me sane.”

“Oh, well then, you’re very welcome.” There was a blissful pause without need to be embellished with words before Buffy’s curiosity pushed them forward. “So what happened then?”

“Well, I was heading for the library to get weapons, but my leg gave way, so we were kind of stranded on the floor, and then Giles turned up. He was fighting off the demon and it was weakened – because of the serum – and then…and then…”

“…And then?”

“Well, then we defeated it – w-with the serum. Giles’ serum killed it.”

And, as if on cue, Giles burst through the door before Buffy had a chance to ask any more questions.

“Right, well, now that’s cleared up, I think perhaps a celebration is in order – a release of nerves, if you will. I assume you’ve filled Buffy in, Faith?”

“Well, uh, yeah, the general – that we defeated the thing. Didn’t think she needed to know every little detail, y’know.”

“I meant about the death of Principle Snyder.”

“Oh.” She remembered that Buffy didn’t know. “It turns out Snyder was the demon, and, well, he’s dead now.”

“I knew it!”

Faith blinked. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, I uh, had an idea that maybe Snyder was our guy this morning.”

_“This morning?”_

“Yeah, well I tried to tell you but I never got the chance. And it was more of a hunch, really. It wasn’t until Giles said that the attacks were solely aimed at misbehaved students that I knew.”

“And why wasn’t I told this, you know, being a misbehaved student?”

“I ran straight over once I knew. I didn’t even let Giles finish his sentence.”

Giles cut in. “When do you?”

And it was as if they were all given that security blanket of familiarity, and everything was alright.

“So,” Giles picked his coat from behind his counter. “Any preference on destination? Oh, I could bring my guitar!”

The two Slayers of Sunnydale dropped their jaws, a one and true expression of terror shared between them.

*

Giles had really wanted to give his girls ice cream but had been forced to go for the shandy instead. And they were even disappointed by the alcohol level of that. Still, their complaining wasn’t long-lived, and soon the three of them were upon his car-top gazing at the stars. Very serene; it was at times like these that Giles wished he had a photographer following him round to capture his best moments. Perhaps this was a good time to whip out his guitar.

A howl echoed through the leaves behind them.

“Buffy, when was it you told me about that fluffy beast who attacked you?”

“Uh, two, maybe three days ago.”

Giles frowned at the bright round moon.

“I think you two need to track down a werewolf.”

“Arrrrrrgh,” Faith rolled her head back dramatically and flumped on her back, her hair flying through the night sky and landing in a matt against the old and equally beautiful, in Giles’ opinion, car. “You just magicked my leg better. I haven’t even got any partying out of it yet and you want me to tire it out on demons already?”

“Well, werewolves are not demons, per say. They’re people, like you and me, and don’t remember what havoc they’re caused the next day.”

“Just like me then,” Faith propped herself up on her elbow. “Maybe not you though, Giles.”

“I’ll have you know that I was quite the, ah,” he wiped his glasses, “whatever you call it these days.”

“That just leaves me who doesn’t identify with werewolves then,” Buffy said. “Shall we go, then?”

“I think that would be best,” replied Giles, a little regretful of sending them away.

Faith threw herself from the car’s rooftop, flinging her arms through the air. “Work, work, work!”

*

Buffy and Faith followed the howls to – guess where – the cemetery. And it wasn’t long before a vampire decided that three really wasn’t a crowd.

“Ah, Buffy! Buffy Summers?”

Faith looked at Buffy questioningly.

“My old school counsellor – I’ll take that one, you take that guy.” She nodded over her shoulder at the second incoming vampire.

Faith nodded and did so.

“You two good friends, huh?”

Buffy turned back to her vamped counsellor.

“Yep.”

She kicked. He ducked.

“You had a little trouble making friends, didn’t you?”

“Not before I had to come to this dump. I was popular.”

“So you’ve said. But you don’t really care anymore, do you? Sure, you were quite bitter about it at first, but this complaint you keep up, it’s not really real anymore. Am I right?”

Buffy hated these psychologist types. She threw a punch, blocked, and received a back hand.

He repeated the question. “Am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right. I’ve made good friends here and I’m happy. You happy? Can we fight now?”

She jumped and kicked him in the face. He stumbled backwards, just keeping his balance. Buffy retrieved her stake and he retrieved a handkerchief. He dignifiedly blotted up the blood protruded from his somewhat stiletto-mauled nose. Buffy narrowed her eyes.

“But are you totally happy?”

“I will be when you’re dust.”

She made no move to dust him.

“Oh Buffy,” he laughed and sat on a tombstone, “you always did use evasive tactics.”

“Evasive what now?”

“Please, sit.” Buffy stayed standing. The counselling vampire went idly on. “That friend of yours, you seem quite fond of her.”

Buffy’s narrowed eyes became slits.

*

Faith strolled back towards where she and Buffy had split up, a post-staking buzz within her chest. She hoped Buffy’s fight hadn’t ventured as far from the spot as her own had.

It hadn’t. Faith spotted Buffy sitting on a tombstone, next to her vampire. It was odd; Buffy usually had a strictly professional attitude to her patrols. Faith guessed it was because she’d known the guy, and resolved to approach softly and sensitively. They seemed to be having an in-depth discussion into Buffy’s psych, just like old times.

“So, this – Faith, was her name?”

“Yes.”

“You have concluded, through much sexual confusion,” Faith rose and eyebrow and made an effort to make sure her smirking was silent, “that you have feelings for her, but you aren’t sure if she feels the same.”

“That’s right.”

Faith had a momentary outer-body experience. She was wanted. Sure, she’d been _wanted_ many times, but that was different. She felt that good down-low tickle her stomach saved solely for Buffy. Buffy’s voice rang between her ears: _‘How low?’_ and Faith had to bite her fist to stifle a laugh.

*

“Though I should remind you, Buffy, that customarily these sessions are confidential.” He nodded behind her.

She looked round to see Faith leaning against a stone crucifix, waiting for her to finish. She staked her old counsellor easily over her shoulder; looking round was not really necessary. She felt its dust blowing pretty close to her bare neck. Vampires: all beasts. And Buffy didn’t care how sensitive they acted.

“So,” Buffy tried to move subject matters quickly on. “I don’t suppose you ran into any of your ex-counsellors?”

Faith took a stride forward, caught Buffy’s wrist and kissed her.

It wasn’t quite how Buffy expected a Faith-kiss to be. It was more tentative; gentle; almost hesitant. But now the action was ‘allowed’ it certainly got a lot more what one might describe as ‘Faith-like’.

There was a warmth – a heat, which Buffy had never felt from Angel, or even the fully human heart-beating Scott. Buffy slipped her hand beneath cotton, allowed her fingers to play and feel their way around the small of Faith’s back. Rising, they found a laced strap whose pressure created a little dip in flesh.

There was a dull, faraway pain in Buffy’s lower-back and the crack of stone as she was pushed up against an old crypt wall. The force of the movement sent Faith’s curls bouncing around them, blocking out any artificial light that might break its way through Buffy’s eyelids. The sight was probably beautiful but she didn’t care to look. Buffy was too aware of the heel of Faith’s palm rising up her abdomen; firm yet gentle; strong yet inexorably human.

The thought that she might not be wearing a bra as nice as Faith’s struck her surprisingly; thoughts and worries such as these seemed quite an alien entity. Buffy couldn’t remember what she had put on that day. This morning seemed so far away…

*

There was a raucous rustling sound and the two Slayers jumped apart.

Their risen gazes were met with the sight of a naked – _was that Oz?_ So he was the werewolf. Poor Willow, she really didn’t get great results on the romantic front. Maybe she’d find her match in college.

Faith flung out an arm exasperatedly. “Why do you monster folk always turn up at the worst goddamn times?”

“Remember one of the most important teachings of a Watcher,” murmured Buffy.

“And what’s that?”

Buffy had developed a truly malicious smile of her own.

“Patience.”

**

 

 

_(Possible) Epilogue_

“And it wouldn’t hurt you to clean out the glasses, plates and cutlery once in a while – and no, not rinse – _clean_. It’s different!”

“Uh, Buffy, you’re gonna be late for class.”

She glanced at their clock (it had a cartooned vampire on it that said _‘I’m goving to suuuck your blooood’_ every morning at seven-o’clock.) “Damn,” she looked back to Faith and narrowed her eyes. “You may have won the battle, but the war is nowhere near over.”

Faith’s laughter was smothered by the sound of the door crashing behind Buffy. Maybe she could get Willow and Tara to teach her how to magic dishes clean.

*

Buffy was very thankful she shared Psychology with Willow: Professor Walsh had a great capacity for relentless information grilling. It could be quite overwhelming. She just wanted to relax.

She was also thankful her original roommate had gone back to the demon dimension so she could share a bedroom with her girlfriend. Buffy returned to their room to find her lying on their bed (or beds – they’d pushed the twins together) with her boots on. Typical. At least she seemed to have made an effort to clean them. In fact –

“Notice anything different, B?”

Buffy did notice different – a lot different.

“It’s…tidy.” Buffy nodded approvingly. “Don’t use this as a get out of jail free card for the rest of your messy eternity, though.”

“Oh Buffy, can’t you just relish in the good?”

“You’re right, sorry. I’m totally ready to relish in the good.”

They shared a grin.

“I’m a muffin, right?”

“No, you’re not a muffin. You’re Faith. Wonderful, clever, _sexy Faith–”_

“Hey, Buffy!”

Buffy’s face fell into a perfect depiction of pure horror at the sight of her little sister coming out from behind a kitchen cupboard.

“Dawn… Uh, what brings you here?”

“Well, Mom was busy and I needed help with my homework and it’s due tomorrow and my teacher refused to help me and as Mom was all with the busy-ness I thought I’d come and ask you!”

Buffy’s open mouth twitched. “Eh…” Had she done something wrong in a past life?

“Don’t worry, Faith already helped me with it.” Buffy didn’t manage to hold in a sigh of relief. Dawn frowned. “You know, if you don’t wanna see me, you can just say.”

“Wait – Dawn – it’s not that, it’s just I’m tired and I didn’t expect – but you know you can come round any time.”

Dawn turned in the doorway, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, don’t worry, I understand. And anyway, Faith gave me some great long-lasting advice. She said that if Mr Diggins ever refused to help me with my homework again, I should just say that if he remembers Faith Lehane he won’t want to cross me again.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. She turned to Faith. “You told my little sister she should _threaten_ her teacher?”

Faith and Dawn spoke in unison. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

And with that the young troublesome girl was gone. It left Buffy with the unsettling feeling that Dawn was going to use this newfound catchphrase as an excuse when she misused Buffy’s much-loved possessions.

She felt Faith’s arms slink their way round her waist. “I love you.”

Buffy replied with a kiss to Faith’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

“So, you wanna see the thing Willow and Tara showed me how to do that _wasn’t_ cleaning?”

Buffy wasn’t sure if she did. On the one hand she really did want Faith to show her. On the other hand, this was Willow they were talking about. And Tara. They weren’t exactly the people Buffy wanted to have to think about like that. And how had they _shown_ Faith? What exactly had they been up to while Buffy was in her classes?

“Shut your eyes.”

Buffy did as she was told, a little apprehensive.

“OK,” Faith said after some rustling and curiosity. “Open!”

Buffy did so, and at first, she didn’t quite know what she was supposed to be looking at.

“Revision flowcharts!” Faith grinned proudly.

Buffy’s mouth was hanging open slightly.

“Who’s the responsible one _now?_ ”

And it was then that Buffy broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?

“Why are you laughing?

“Seriously, what’s to laugh at?

“B,

“Seriously.”

 

 

_fin_

 


End file.
